


Venomous Snakes Dressed in Pretty Flowers

by PocketSwordOfDamocles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Platonic Relationships, SHIDGE, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, but you can see it however you want friends ship freely lol, i guess i can tag it as that, i would like to apologize to my two favorite paladins for doing this to them, maybe i'll change it to Shiro pov at times, mention of the other paladins and lions and alteans, more angst than i originally planned my bad, ok i lied the rest of team voltron are in this like they quiznaking wormholed their way in, paladin/lion bond, sprinkles in some fluff after all that angst, why do i like hurting my favs, yo who wants some random info dumps about animals and nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9928481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketSwordOfDamocles/pseuds/PocketSwordOfDamocles
Summary: It was meant to be a simple day of exploration. The Green Lion had craved to be in her element while Pidge wanted to check out the anomaly her scans had picked up. It was supposed to be enjoyable. It wasn't.Suddenly, Pidge loses control of her Lion and is stranded on an unknown forest planet. She, along with Shiro and the rest of Team Voltron, have to figure out what's really going on with the Green Lion and fix her before its too late.





	1. Venus Flytrap

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me about the title, like, I wrote that at 2 AM and I left it.

The Green Lion was drawn to this planet. It reminded Pidge of where they’d found her Lion slumbering and of the Olkari, all flora and green and wild. Not really her thing, but Green enjoyed it, so they decided to explore, curiosity winning. It was peaceful, relaxing.

Or, at least, it should’ve been.

Before reaching the planet’s surface, a sense of... _wrongness_ seeped into the Paladin’s bones. _Turn around_ , her instincts whispered; this planet was venomous snakes dressed in pretty flowers. Curiosity be damned, this did not sit well with her.

“Let’s fall back and regroup,” Pidge announced, tugging at her controls. This was just a day trip of exploration, no sense of getting into something dangerous; the other Paladins would have her head if she did so.

It was then Pidge noticed her Lion was not heading toward the castleship, but continuing to descend to the sea of alien wildlife below. Confusion mixed with slight panic. “Green?” Pidge closed her eyes to better focus with their connection, ordering her body to relax, to trust the Green Lion. “Hey, girl, what’s the matter? Let’s go home. It’ll be-”

The landing jolted her from her seat, her eyes snapping open and arms flailing to grasp the dashboard. Alarms blared, loud and glaring. Pidge couldn’t figure out what was wrong; the scans weren’t picking up any enemies or damage done to the Lion. After retreating to the pilot’s seat, Pidge tried to get them away from this place - it was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong.

Green refused to respond, overriding Pidge’s control and ignoring her questions, and growled and began to rampage through waves of emerald.

Full panic set in. Talking did nothing. Demands were useless. Fighting for power was futile. Communications were out, and she couldn’t send a distress signal.

The Green Paladin had lost complete control of the Green Lion.

Pidge knocked her fist against her helmet, hoping her armor’s signal was still working. “Hello? Hello?! Can anyone -?” She was knocked from her seat and slammed into the side of her cockpit, slumping to the floor with a groan. _Breathe, Pidge_ , she told herself before doing a roll call of everyone aboard the Castle of Lions. “Can anyone hear me? Something’s wrong with my Lion. I need -”

“-idge? Pidge, I can... you. What’s -ong?”

Static assaulted her ears, but she could hear him well enough. Snatching her backpack, she climbed to her feet and gripped the back of her pilot’s seat for support. Greenery rushed passed her in a sickening blur, her Lion showing no signs of slowing or responding. “Shiro! I’ve lost control of -”

The mechanical beast skidded to an abrupt stop, bucking and thrashing as if to rid her body of something vial. Pidge did her best to hang on, to not be a human pinball, but the Lion was too powerful. After ping-ponging around the cockpit a few times, Green’s jaw opened and Pidge was suddenly in the open sky, flying and falling at once and screaming, overpowering Shiro’s anxious voice in her helmet.

The Green Lion rejected her Paladin.

Her jetpack hardly eased her descent into the forest: tree limbs knocking the breath out of her, twigs drawing stinging lines of blood across her face, vines hooking and snapping under her weight. Pidge activated her bayard, it arching to a branch far above; it explode on contact. She tried again and again, getting similar results until her arm and head slammed into a vine as large as Hunk and knocked her bayard from her hand and helmet from her head. Screaming and cursing and vision swimming, she twisted her body every which way and grabbed at anything, everything, only to slip away a moment later.

The surface grew closer and -

~ ~ ~ 

Ringing in her ears. Pounding in her skull. Bruised skin and bones. All of this greeted Pidge upon waking. She groaned and tried not to move too much or she’d vomit her goo breakfast. The world was a kaleidoscope of trees and foliage and slivers of light; she focused on the coolness of the ground seeping through her armor, willing for this to pass, instead.

Slowly, Pidge sat up with a whimper. “Guys?” She reached to touch her helmet, shocked when her fingertips connected with her hair instead. Oh yeah, her helmet was knocked off during the fall. She tapped her right thigh and whined; her bayard was missing, too. Touching her back, she noted that her jetpack was damaged. Pidge tested the left gauntlet, the shield sputtering to maintain power - hope filled her - only to flicker out a hand of full of ticks later, useless.  “ _Quiznak…_.”

Okay. Fine then.

She took stock of herself and surroundings. Injured and disoriented, but Pidge felt well enough to limp - thank you, Paladin armor - at least... _maybe_ , not that she had much of a choice if she wanted to get off this forsaken planet. Glancing around, she spotted her backpack several yards away. Relief coursed through her; supplies were in there - water, snacks, bandages she thought she’d never use. Crawling those few yards was harder than Pidge imagined; the ground was uneven and littered with dead leaves and roots, and she was so loud in the stillness of the forest.

A chill slithered down the Green Paladin’s spine, her brain finally working. Little filtered light graced the forest floor, shadows dominating and menacing, as if the green planet was split in half, making it difficult to see. It was quiet, far too quiet and still. No birds or insects or creatures both large and small wandering through dried leaves, sticks, and grass. All of it felt wrong. Nature was not silent.

Swallowing thickly, Pidge stood with the help of a broken branch and shouldered her backpack. Instincts demanded she run. This was not safe, not safe, not safe, get somewhere safe, _run_. Darkness blended with the forest, creating monsters that weren’t really there. Trick of the eyes, trick of a head injury, she told herself while glaring at the environment. Fear of the unknown was normal, but ridiculous. There were not eyes following her as she trekked her way to the light.

Do not let fear overtake you, a voice in her head advised.

Movement just out of the corner of her eye had her yearning for her bayard anyway.

“Find my bayard and helmet,” Pidge mumbled to herself, climbing over a massive vine. “And get to Green somehow and fix...her.”

Slackjawed and craning her neck, Pidge froze, coming up to the creature’s knees as it leered and loomed over her. All jagged teeth and drool and hairless muscle and gut wrenching breath. It had six legs with eight clawed toes, four yellow eyes, no ears, slits for nostrils, wrinkled copper flesh, and Pidge really wished she’d stop noticing the details because it had bones lodged between its teeth. Saliva splattered next to her boot - it corroded the vine beneath, Pidge noted - as the creature opened its jaws similar to how a snake unhinged its jaws before swallowing its prey whole.

It snapped. Pidge dove to the side and stumbled away. Twin spiked tails followed after the creature as it gave chase, moving faster than its mass suggested.

Tails collided with the trunk Pidge skirted behind, shaking the ground and cracking the tree. The creature circled, spotting her too quickly, and she slipped through the gaps between the roots and vines and fell into darkness. Cool dirt and roots surrounded her in the pocket beneath the surface. She peered through the openings above, hearing it sniffing for her. Debris landed on her face, in her hair, and she held her breath. A clawed foot forced its way through, stopping inches from Pidge’s face; she suppressed a scream. Pressing her body as far away as she could, she watched as it dug into the earth to locate her, it making unsatisfied noises that its prey was just out of reach.

She needed a plan. She needed a miracle.

Desperate, Pidge called for her Lion, pleading for Green to rescue her. That’s what their Lions could do, right? Save their Paladin if they were in danger? Red had done it for Keith many times, and Black and Green had done the same for Shiro and Pidge once upon a time. So why not now? Why wasn’t Green here, protecting her Paladin? Was this planet affecting her Lion _that much_ , to the point where the Green Lion refused to save her life?

Then she recalled that her Lion had rejected her, so...she was really on her own now.

Scowling, Pidge fumbled around in the dark for a makeshift weapon. She didn’t need a Lion. She didn’t need a bayard or shield. She didn’t need backup. It’d make things easier, sure, but she didn’t necessarily _need_ them. The Green Paladin only needed to stay true to her quintessence.

Intellect and daring.

Her hand wrapped around a root, the perfect size for her, and she jerked and whittled the stubborn thing until it was free from the packed dirt. Running her hand over it, Pidge memorized the length, the mass - would this work? It had to or she was going to be eaten alive. The heel of her boot came down on the root’s end, forcing it to snap to a lethal point; hands fell to the root again, a plan taking flight. It was no bayard, but it was _something_.

Claws were reaching farther in.

Where was the best place to stab it? Its hide was out of the question. The mouth? No - the saliva was corrosive; that’d just piss it off, not drive it away to find easier prey. Blind it? But she’d only get one shot and it had four eyes - was this root even long enough? Didn’t matter; too many variables. What about…?

Sweating, the Paladin gripped the makeshift spear, bouncing from foot to foot, and observed the creature dig and cram its flaring nostrils farther and farther into the opening it created. That...that could work. But this had to be right - the timing, the force, everything. She had to aim as if she meant to skewer its brain, to deliver a death blow.

Talons grazed her stomach. The creature’s arm retracted, a nose taking its place in the opening to inhale deeply. Pidge lunged, throwing what weight she had upward and piercing the monster’s bare flesh with sickening ease. She pressed harder, finding more resistance the farther she went, and locked her grip. The creature thrashed and howled in agony, but Pidge refused to let go. Boiling blood flowed down the spear, engulfing her and making it difficult to hang on, while saliva dripped in massive droplets around her and on her armor.

She screamed through grit teeth. Just a little longer. Endure just a tick longer.

The root snapped in two. Sounds of an injured beast faded away as quickly as it appeared; Pidge’s labored breaths filled the silence. She threw herself out of the puddle of scalding blood and acidic drool and tore off the melting armor, the right upper half of it destroyed, leaving blistering skin. Pidge overturned her backpack, pawing at the pile until she located a water pouch. After tearing it open, she took a few deep breaths, clenched her jaw, and emptied it onto her raw flesh. Her vision blackened at the edges, stomach threatened to expel everything, tears prickled her eyes, an animalistic scream dared to escape her throat. But it helped, _excruciatingly_ , but the water did help.

Slumping, Pidge allowed herself to breathe, and only breathe, for exactly four minutes.

The smell had Pidge exiting the pit prematurely, cursing and groaning the entire way.

It also wasn’t wise to stick around an area that reeked of blood. She didn’t plan on being a snack for the scavengers that would come.

The Green Paladin licked her lips, tasting blood, and immediately decided to go the opposite direction of the bloody and goopy path her most recent acquaintance made. Grunting and hissing between her teeth, Pidge pushed herself toward the direction she believed her helmet and bayard had landed. Her plan, once she located both, was to wish on every star in the cosmos that they were in well enough shape to contact the Castle of Lions and protect herself until she was retrieved. Then, Pidge, Hunk, and the Alteans would figure out what’s wrong with the Green Lion, fix her, and then never have to look at this damn planet again.

But all of that depended on finding her helmet _and_ it working. If that failed, then her bayard would be all she’d have...that is, _if_ she could also find it and _if_ it worked.

Pidge paused to catch her breath, shook the nerves out of her fingers, and watched the many, horrible scenarios play in her mind.

“Quintessence,” she swallowed, drawing up courage, “don’t fail me now.”

~ ~ ~ 

It was some time after locating her glitchy bayard that Pidge noticed something inside of her was changing. One moment, walking was difficult then the next she was sprinting with ease. There was less noise in her head and she favored relying on her instincts more than logic. And there was this random throbbing behind her eyes that she wished wasn’t anything serious.

Later, she decided with finality, she would worry about that crap later.

Three times the Paladin hid during her search for her helmet. Three times she was nearly discovered by what she assumed were scavengers. Three times Pidge was thankful those creatures’ stomachs overruled their curiosity and slithered away in the direction she just came from.

After leaving her third hiding spot, it was then Pidge noticed, if she listened hard enough, she could hear the white noise of a radio and followed it, glancing up and up and up until she spotted it lodged between a few high branches of a tree she questioned if she could climb without nearly killing herself in the process. Giving the tree a once-over, the Green Paladin deduced that, yes, she would most likely kill herself climbing the tree - the trunk was too straight, the branches and what vines it did have were too high, and the limbs from the neighboring trees didn’t seem sturdy enough to hold her weight.

If her jetpack wasn’t destroyed, this wouldn’t be a problem, so she un-holstered her bayard and eyed it. Was it stable enough to at least knock the helmet loose? That’s all she needed her weapon to do. Pidge activated the bayard, it flickering...then deactivating. Again and again Pidge tried to get her bayard to hold power and again and again it failed. Frustrated, she thumped it against the bottom of her boot and tried and failed a few more times until her skull was pounding.

Head cradled in her hands, fingers digging into the drying beast blood and debris in her hair, Pidge squatted and told herself to calm down. There had to be another way to get her helmet down and she just wasn’t -

The earth shook, as if something titanic had landed or crashed nearby, knocking the helmet free, and her first thought was a Lion as she retrieved the last piece of her armor. Static cut between the voices of her comm as she climbed toward the lighter side of the planet, the signal growing stronger the higher she went. Pidge crested a hill, bathed in light for the first time since being rejected by the Green Lion. Shielding her eyes and squinting, she examined the blinding sky for flying robotic felines or an alien castleship to rescue her.

Nothing showed.

Pidge deflated, slammed her palm against her cracked helmet. “This is Pidge. Someone, come in.” She waited, hating being exposed in the open with a damaged weapon and shield. _Like Bambi’s mother during open season_ , the thought came. “ _Hello_ ?!” she stressed, voice going to a higher pitch while rubbing at the goose bumps forming on her arms. “It’s Pidge. Can anyone hear me? Please, someone... _anyone…_.”

And then:

“We hear you loud and clear, Pidge. Coming for an extraction now.”

Princess Allura. A sense of calm washed over her. Allura and the guys were coming, everything was going to be okay now. Green will be repaired in no time and she’d get to a healing pod. The Green Paladin dropped to her knees in relief; this nightmare was almost over.

Pidge opened her mouth to respond only to shut it when she heard another voice.

“Thanks, guys.” That was _her_ voice - _Pidge’s_ own voice - but she didn’t speak. “I don’t know what happened. Something must’ve malfunctioned...maybe I missed something during my repairs after our last battle?”

Lance whistled, brotherly teasing, “Wow, Pidge missed something? What’s next? Keith’s gonna cut his stupid mullet?” She could hear the Red Paladin’s eyes roll.

The impostor sighed. “Look, I said I was sorry.”

“Everyone has their off-days, Pidge,” came Shiro’s reassurance.

“Yeah,” added Hunk, “don’t worry about it. Just hang tight til we get there.

“Keith, did you just flip me off?” questioned Lance. “He just flipped me off. Dude, the hell?”

Pidge knew he shrugged. “Just...I don’t know why you keep complaining about my hair. I mean, you weren’t complaining when you had your hands in it the other night.”

“ _Dude_... _wording_.”

The Green Paladin listened to the exchanges between fake-Pidge and the other Paladins, shaking, and suddenly _knew_ it was her Lion talking in her voice. No one else would be able to pull of Pidge’s reactions without the team noticing so perfectly. But why? What was going on? She shouted into the headset, into the stillness of the forest, “Listen, that’s not me!” Fists coming down on the ground, her head throbbing again, “That’s not me, you guys. That’s not - you have to listen!”

A shadow blocked out the sunlight. Vines and roots shifted around the Green Paladin as she stood to face the Green Lion. The mechanical beast stood amongst the trees as if she was one of them, eyes glowing bright green as she regarded the human before her. Pidge stiffened, instinctively reaching for what was left of their bond, and cocked her head to the side; she swore the Lion did the same.

Grasping her head, Pidge tentatively took a step forward. “Green? Are you better now?” She wasn’t, she knew she wasn’t. The pounding in her skull grew stronger. “Is it...is it this planet? We can leave, ya know. I know you miss the forest, but if it’s hurting you, we should go back to our friends.” The Paladin took another step only to fall to her knees, doubled over in pain. “You - you remember our friends, r-right?” she asked through grit teeth. “The other L-lions and...Paladins and the Alteans? Don’t - don’t cha wanna...go...back to them? I-I...do.”

The unmistakable sound of the loading of a laser had Pidge lifting her head. Green’s jaws were open, energy building within for a blast, and aimed at her.

Wide-eyed, the human called, “Green?” She slowly sat up, sensing the forest shift violently around her. “H-hey, pretty girl, it’s - it’s me Pidge. Your...I’m your Paladin.” Tears swelled. “ _Green_?”

 


	2. Root of the Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I will fix you,” the Green Paladin told the metal beast, despite her voice trembling and anxiety skyrocketing. “Somehow, someway, I will. I promise, Green.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, look who finally has internet - surprise! I moved, been settling in, and dealing with my full-time job, so NOW I can finally post this, though I wanted to do this, like, wwaaaaayyy sooner. Oh well. Sorry this is shorter than the previous chapter. :( But I've been dying to post this.  
> Also, THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVELY COMMENTS AND KUDOS! Y'ALL ROCK AND YOU DO TEAM VOLTRON PROUD. Wow, I seriously can't believe y'all like this, so I really, really, really hope I don't disappoint. *sweats* No pressure.   
> Again, sorry for any weird mistakes aaaannnddd enjoy!

Hypotheses of what was the root of Green’s behavior had been formulating in Pidge’s mind since she woke up from the crash. The planet itself was sick. It was a virus that affected machines, which in turn affected Pidge through the bond - Guardian Spirit of the Forest and all that, so it made sense? Maybe a creature crawled aboard and was screwing with the systems. Maybe it was a side effect of the last Galra battle. Maybe it was a series of events and the Lion really was rejecting the Paladin.

But Pidge’s gut went with the forest itself being the problem.

“Quiznak,” she breathed, getting to her feet, “ _ Hunk and Lance _ .”

Desperation laced her voice as she tried to contact the Paladins again, shouting her thoughts into the communication’s link. The Guardian Spirits of the Land and Water would most likely be affected, too; the forest, land, water went hand and hand, and she could not allow Hunk, Yellow, Lance, and Blue to follow suit. Keith was too temperamental and that was a risk - would it affect Red? And Shiro...yes, he was the level head of Voltron, but was this “virus” airborne? Again, it was a risk that she would not, could not, take. Allura definitely couldn’t come because she was connected to the Lions, so that left Coran and a pod...that would probably be blasted from the atmosphere on sight. 

With a heavy heart, the Green Paladin decided to tell them to stay away - she would figure it out alone - but she knew they couldn’t hear her, judging from their mindless chattering in the comms. But she hoped. Oh, she hoped something was getting through to protect them from this. To protect them from the guilt that they never located her body.

Staring at the energy building within the Lion’s mouth, Pidge labeled the sensation eating at her core:

_ Fear _ .

This was fear. She was afraid of her Lion, afraid of dying, afraid of never seeing her loved ones again, and she was afraid that she didn’t have the slightest idea of how to fix this. Though she needed to live, would her legs move when she ordered them to? With the way they took turns locking up and shaking Pidge wasn’t sure anymore. Wasn’t sure of a lot of things, actually.

_ Hopelessness, helplessness _ , she listed off the uncertainty writhing within her.

Pidge took a breath. Grit her teeth. Dried her tears.

And squashed the negativity, and reforged it to curiosity, and christened it anew:

_ Determination _ . 

No.  _ No _ , she refused to die here. The universe needed her, the team needed her, she still had to rescue her father and brother. She was going to get out of this mess and make everything right again. All she had to do was...outsmart the Green Lion. 

Sure. No problem.

“I will fix you,” the Green Paladin told the metal beast, despite her voice trembling and anxiety skyrocketing. “Somehow, someway, I will. I promise, Green.”

To the last, terrifying tick, Pidge forced herself to stand her ground before narrowly dodging the blast by jumping and cartwheeling down the steep hill, the trees and darkness swallowing her once more.

Vision tunneled, hearing deafening and head splitting.  _ Run _ . Grass, trees, boulder, grass, sky, trees, vines.  _ Run _ . Lungs demanding oxygen.  _ Run _ . Legs pleading for a break.  _ Run _ . Agony roaring throughout her veins.  _ Run _ . Sweat pouring.  _ Run _ . Trees, rocks, vines, grass, roots, tree, tree, grass, cliff -

~ ~ ~

Waking was slow, like switches in her brain were flicking on one by one. Conscious thought, as if the Paladin was in and out of her body at once, was first. It was dark and she was exhausted, not caring that her body felt twice as heavy, and all she thought was,  _ I want to go to sleep. My head hurts - why does everything hurt? _ . The sense of touch returned; Pidge was lying, uncomfortably, on what she guessed were a bed of vines and leaves. Wind ripped through the Paladin armor, sending chills up and down her body while the ground shook violently, kicking up debris and dirt.

Something was shaking her, gurgled noises filtering in - was that her name?  _ Leave me alone _ . Sound became clearer, the shaking got harder, the vines were warmer. This...this smelled nice, familiar, safe - was she safe now? The voice calling her was soothing yet frantic. Pidge wanted to tell them she was alright, but struggled to break into the waking world.

Finally, sluggishly, the Green Paladin cracked her eyes open, squinting against the brightness with a hiss. Blinking cleared her vision from looking-without-seeing to mono-colored blots - why was the world in black and white? Kaltenecker? - to sorta-fuzzy images. And, as her eyes focused, Pidge wondered how both relief and dread could occupy the same space in her chest.

“Shiro?”

“ _ Pidge _ .” Never had there been so much warmth put into her alias. 

Then he was cradling her as if she was something precious that would slip away at any moment, asking questions rapidfire. But processing information was the equivalent of wading through knee-deep mud for her. Was this what the others felt like when she rambled? Things buzzing over their heads and not knowing what questions to ask to comprehend? She’d have to try to be better about doing that.

“Shiro,” she winced, tapping his shoulder; apologizing, his hold slacked immediately. The Black Lion came into focus in the distance, patient and stoic and hovering over the ground with wings sheathed. Beautiful as always. Gears turned in Pidge’s head, slowly. There was something she needed to tell him, but what was it again? It was important….

His hands ghosted over her injuries. “What’s going on? What happened?”

That...was processed faster. The Green Paladin glanced past him, to the sheer cliff high above, and vaguely wondered how she survived. Not even Paladin armor could completely protect her from a fall like that.

She should be a pancake, a Green Paladin pancake - a tossed away idea from that Dr Seuss story. “I do not like green eggs and Green Paladin pancakes. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.” Pidge thought of her dad, not knowing if she should laugh or cry about being a green pancake. It also didn’t flow correctly, which reminded her even more of her dad. 

Shiro was staring, eyebrows drawn in worriment. As he should because she most likely had a concussion. 

“Question of the day,” she responded at length, rubbing her temple.  

“Guys, I got Pidge,” their leader announced into the comm and gently scooping up the injured girl. As they backtracked to the Black Lion, Pidge listened to her team fuss over her and relaxed to the way Shiro’s voice vibrated through her skull as he spoke. Yes, she was alive, the Black Paladin told them, but Coran needed to ready a cryopod. No, he didn’t know what was going on because Pidge was still sort of out of it; don’t rush her, guys. No, they haven’t seen her Lion yet; as soon as they did, they were leaving.

And that was when the fog in her head evaporated.

Pidge should be dead, and not just because of the drop. If the Green Lion  _ truly  _ wanted to eliminate the Paladin, she could have, would have, done so by now; Pidge was just a defenseless, injured human on foot - a lone, easy target. She shifted in Shiro’s arms, torn. Was this just a cat and mouse game, or was Green fighting the virus the best she could?

She hummed in the back of her throat. More data was needed.

“Hey...are the others here, too?”

He keep his eyes forward. Always vigilant. “No. My Lion took off as soon as I was inside.” Brow pinching, “She’s not listening again,” hung in the air, unspoken. 

However, Pidge thought otherwise:

The Black Lion knew something was off - maybe the other Lions did, too? - and went ahead, putting herself and her Paladin in danger in the team’s place. A willing sacrificial lamb - well,  _ lion _ . How very... _ Shiro _ of her. Was that a Black Paladin thing or was Shiro rubbing off on his Lion? On the other hand, it was difficult to picture Zarkon, the previous Black Paladin, doing that for...well, anyone, considering he’s  _ Zarkon _ . That was something else to think about later.

She hummed again, touching her chin. “She’s protecting Green,” Pidge concluded more to herself than to him, “protecting her pride.”

“I don’t follow. What’re you -?”

Pidge pulled Shiro’s head closer to her, trying to be heard through the communication link and ignoring his questions. The team had to know this,  _ now _ . “Guys, listen up! Stay away from this planet. This-this place is sick. It might be a virus of some kind? I don’t know how - actually, I’m unsure on a lot of things at the moment, but that doesn’t really matter - but what  _ does  _ matter is that  _ something is  _ affecting Green and it’s affecting me, too. And if I’m right, Hunk, Lance, and Allura definitely need to stay away. We can’t risk the other Lions. We can’t risk Voltron.” 

Questions streamed through Shiro’s earpiece. No one understood what she meant - earlier she said  _ this _ , now she’s saying  _ that _ . It didn’t help that the Black Paladin was staring at her as if her head injury was more severe than originally believed.

“You’ve been exposed to this, too,” Pidge added, releasing him. “We can’t leave the planet until we figure out what’s going on. If I’m right, that is.” She thought about it. “Probably am, though. I usually am.”

Lance’s comment reached her ears: “You’ve been wrong before, Pidge.”

Flushed, she argued, “I was right about  _ aliens _ .  _ Aliens _ ! That’s all that matters.” She huffed, “Okay. Maybe not  _ all  _ that matters, but -”

“You’ll never let that go, will you?”

“I will  _ never  _ let that go,” she confirmed. “‘I was right about aliens.’ Engrave that on my headstone.”

Pidge heard Allura’s “What’s a headstone?” before Shiro turned down the comms’ volume.

His pace slowed, confused expression lingering. “I’m with the others on this. That’s not what you said before.”

“You mean the comms? That was Green. She must’ve created a program to calculate how I’d normally respond to certain situations, chose the most likely dialog, and used my voice to articulate them. The Lions know us,” she insisted, oddly proud and in awe of her Lion. Pidge didn’t know she could do that! The Voltron Lions never ceased to amaze her. How was she so lucky to have the opportunity to study and pilot such breathtaking technology? “They’re in our heads, our bonds get stronger every day. They listen, they learn, they know what makes us tick, and Green’s proving that. Knowledge is her-”

Shiro stopped abruptly, as did Pidge’s rambling, head snapping to the left.

Her eyes followed, widening, as she finished, “...weapon.”

The Green Lion, head down and crouching, posed to attack the exposed pair of Paladins. Pidge tentatively reached out again to her Lion; the growl that ripped through the mental link had the Green Paladin recoiling, her bones vibrating from the rejection. Briefly, pain shot through her chest, something cracking inside of her, and she grasped at her sternum, pushing her palm against it with a whine. The audible roar, equally as violent and heartbreaking, drowned out Shiro’s concern. Trees quaked, small plants shriveled up and died, forest residents fled in fear of the wrath of the mechanical cosmic warrior.

Just as quickly as it faded, life was breathed back into the landscape, greenery rushing forward with the Green Lion at its axis. Grass, weeds, and flowers brushed against Shiro’s knees, surprising both Paladins at the drastic change. 

Yet Shiro stood firm against a charging Voltron Lion, either scared stupid or stupidly brave, Pidge didn’t know, but they needed to  _ run _ .

_ Now _ .

“Ah,” tugging at his collar with numb fingers, “Shiro.”

Green was getting closer. Neither the Black Lion or Paladin had moved.

“ _ Shiro _ .”

The high-stakes game of Chicken continued.

She wholeheartedly trusted him, but -

“ _ Shiro _ !”

All in one fluid motion, Shiro knelt low to the grass, his hold on Pidge tightening, as Black leaped to her Paladin to stand over him protectively, meeting Green head-on. The head of Voltron’s jaws clamped down on the smaller Lion’s shoulder, easily lifting and chunking her into the cliff face. A beat later, Shiro was on his feet, hauling himself and Pidge to the Black Lion’s open mouth, the sound of boulders dinging against Altean metal followed them up the ramp.

Finding her voice, she shouted, “You’re insane!”

“I trusted my Lion,” he shrugged, failing to hide a slight smile.

Pidge gaped. Eyes skipping from him to Black to him again, she concluded, “You’re both insane!” 

Once inside the cockpit, Shiro set Pidge down to lean against the dashboard to the left of the pilot seat he jumped into. The rest of Team Voltron’s faces popped on the screen as Shiro eased Black into the sky. Questions, questions, bickering, questions, answers, status report; it was white noise to Pidge. But she didn’t have time for talking or resting. The chest pain was a phantom, anyway, and if Black rejected Shiro like Green rejected her, there was work to be done.

Pidge slunk to the back of the cockpit in search of emergency supplies. She un-shouldered her backpack and began rifling through the bins, shoving in more food rations, water pouches, and - the girl glanced at Shiro - extra clothes. Eyes traveled upward to the cabinets overhead. On her toes and stretching with a tight-lipped whimper, Pidge got the latch open with the tip of her middle finger. Stepping back gave her the angle she needed to see the Altean version of a First Aid Kit.

Perfect.

Now, if only she was a titan  _ like someone she knew _ \- Pidge shot a glare in the Black Paladin’s direction - she could reach the damn thing. 

_ Alright then _ . She placed her hands on her hips, cursing her lack of height.  _ Plan B _ .

“Hey, Black?” The Green Paladin called, deciding to ask for help rather than further injure herself by climbing. Just this once. Normally asking for help was Plan C or D, depending on her resources. “Help me out here. Can you tilt your head to the right, please?”

Pidge braced herself for the shift, walking backwards to have her back pressed against the wall opposite of the kit. Only, a tick later, she was sent stumbling forward and throwing her hands in front of herself to keep from colliding with the bins and window, pain jolting up her arm. The Paladin released an undignified noise of surprise combined with a hiss. The medical supply box banging against the inside of the cabinet signalled for Shiro to turn around, eyeing her along with the rest of the team. 

“Other right,” she corrected with a laugh, ignoring them and scrambling to right herself before the next shift. She couldn’t believe that the Black Lion complied with her silly request. Having a Lion that wasn’t bonded to you listen to you? That was enough to have her momentarily forget about everything wrong with her day.

“Pidge-”

Shiro grit his teeth, his Lion jerking her head to the  _ correct  _ right, and braced himself while Pidge landed on her backside with a thud and a grumbled string of English and Altean curses. The cabinet spat out her target onto her lap and the swears ceased. But not the throbbing of her gluteus maximus, oh no, that felt like a bruise-worthy fall to add to her growing collection. A human should not be this many colors at once, she decided, massaging the sore muscle upon standing.

Hooking the kit under her uninjured arm, she grimaced, “Thanks, gorgeous.” 

“Now thank the Lion, Pidge.”

She limped to the left of the pilot seat and patted the dashboard, mishearing Lance. “The Lion reflects the Paladin.”

There was a pause.

Hunk broke it with: “Did you just say that Shiro’s...?”

“That Shiro’s what? That he doesn’t know the difference between left and right? Yeah, I mean-”

“Wha-?” gaped the Black Paladin. “I do, too.”

Lance roared with laughter, “That’s not what I heard!”

Pidge rolled her eyes. She had a concussion; it was a small miracle she could follow anything being said or done around her.

He sighed. “ _ Lance _ .”

“No, no, she’s right,” cupping his chin in consideration. “You still say ‘Righty tighty, lefty loosey’ and make L’s with your fingers to know which is your left hand.”

“ _ Keith _ ,” he scolded.

“He’s adorable,” Hunk stage whispered. The others, even Allura and Coran, nodded in shameless agreement. 

“Not you too,” Shiro groaned.

And in a breath, the atmosphere transformed from playful teasing to concern due to, surprisingly, Keith's observation. “Whoa, Pidge,” wide-eyed, “your arm.”

Glancing at the screen, anxiety and protectiveness greeted the Green Paladin. She quietly fought the urge to hide her exposed wounds, shame and frustration creeping in. It was as if her injuries were a physical manifestation of her failures on this planet.

Sure, Shiro had reported that Pidge was in need of a cryopod, but it was difficult to make that connection when she was teasing and walking and  _ normal _ . The others must've decided that the Black Paladin was, once again, being overprotective. They had to always be ready for the Galra, always be in top form, and if that meant throwing teammates into Altean magic healing machines over the most minute injuries, so be it. He had sworn to keep them safe, and safe they would be even if that meant he suffered or annoyed them with his nearly endless mothering. It was Shiro’s way of coping, Pidge acknowledged, and a quirk of being his teammate. They didn't mind it.

However. Team Voltron  _ did  _ mind that their smallest member was hurt. Melted and damaged armor was not normal. A raging Lion was far from normal. Burns and blood and scraps were normal, but they still opposed it...which was why the boys wouldn't stop asking if she was okay.

" _ Guys _ !" Pidge snapped, cradling her arm close to her midsection. "We don't have time for this. I'm fine, really. Fixing Green is more important."

She glared at any mouth that dared to open to argue. Her mind was made up, and she was not backing down. The Green Lion was necessary to form Voltron while she, if the situation demanded, could be replaced. An Olkari or Hunk would do. They shared the same cosmic dust, after all, and would bond well with the Green Lion, after repairs. This was bigger than herself, bigger than all of them. The safety of the galaxy came first -  _ always first _ \- and Pidge had to think like a true Paladin of Voltron, especially when it was painful.

With a defeated and collected sigh, having grown wise to never stand in the way of her decisions, they surveyed the Green Paladin:

Her bare right arm drew their attention; the shoulder, being the most affected, was red and wrinkled and swelling from the creature's acid. Penpoint to tennis ball sized holes were scattered across the rest of the armor, angry pink splatches peeked from underneath most of the openings. Blood, both hers and the monster's, and muck coated her from cracked helmet and matted hair to filthy boots. Smelling as if she was chewed up and spat back out cemented the fact that a shower, fresh clothes, and a cryopod would await Pidge’s safe return to the Castle of Lions.

" _I'm_ _fine_ ," she repeated, the cuts on her exposed skin stinging in the cool air of the Black Lion's cockpit. 

There was an alternative meaning to that phrase - always had been back on Earth, but now it was clearer to Pidge. It meant: "Don’t worry about me. I can and will keep going." Saying that didn't feel like a lie or an automatic response to mindless small talk no one actually cared about anymore. It was real, somehow.

Princess Allura hesitated. "Did the Green Lion do this to you?"

"No." Her answer was immediate. It was the truth, technically. But she chose not to add that her Lion had tried to kill her a few times. Unless that counted as a bonding experience, which she doubted.

Shiro eyed her from the pilot's seat; Pidge pretended not to notice.

"Then what did?" 

"A creature decided I was a snack," she deadpanned, flicking her gaze to Keith. "I disagreed. It disagreed with my disagreement. Things happened."

"What  _ things _ ?" he prompted.

Same questions from earlier, different wording. "I dealt with it." The Red Paladin opened his mouth to question her again only to be cut off with Pidge stressing, gesturing at her current state, "I. Dealt. With. It."

Pidge understood where Keith was going from: He meant well. He was showing concern - she appreciated it, really, she did. But he needed to trust her, though his instincts were screaming at him that this was wrong; as was hers. Nothing dulled the sensation that everything about this situation was all kinds of bad. Not that that was going to stop her, and neither was Keith or the rest of them. Figuring out what was wrong with Green and repairing her had to be done. End of discussion.

"So, yeah, I'm gonna be the voice of reason here," said Hunk, "and ask what's really going on here, Pidge? What're you planning? Do you even have a plan? Like, a real one? Not a diving-head-first-into-danger-without-a-second-thought Keith plan-"

"I can hear you," spoke up Keith.

Hunk continued, "Or a woo or flirt with your Lion like Lance-"

Lance leaned into the video. "I'll have you know that a pretty lady likes to be wooed. Isn't that right, my beautiful Blue?" A beat passed. A smile spread across Lance's face. "M'lady agrees."

The Yellow Paladin took a breath. "Okay, so,  _ or  _ you could do  _ not  _ do those things like a normal person."

The Blue and Red Paladins shouted, " _ Hey _ !"

"Hunk's right," admitted Shiro. "Do you have a plan?"

"Umm,” Pidge stalled. 

Never before was she grateful that her Lion’s systems came back online and immediately started attacking, all because Pidge did not, in fact, have a plan. Not even a stupid one.

The backpack weighed heavy against her spine as she witnessed Green mindlessly chase and fire at the Black Lion. Shiro’s fly was flawless in his element, never firing back or taking a hit. Always staying a certain distance away from the smaller Lion and above the planet, being cautious and observing.

Knowledge was a weapon, yet Green wasn’t using her cornerstone at the moment...though she was earlier. Pidge found that odd - found many things to be odd, and that did not sit well with her. 

Green was smarter than this. Without a pilot, she would predict the Black Lion’s next possible maneuvers and attack the most likely exposed weak points. Because that’s what Pidge would do. Observe, learn, strategize, and follow through; repeat and adjust if needed. That’s how they survived battles with the Galra, so why wasn’t she…?

Pieces snapped together in her mind. 

Nevermind, she  _ did  _ have a plan.

Pidge placed a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

~ ~ ~

“For the record, I’m against this” summed up the team’s - excluding Shiro’s - reaction to Pidge’s plan. He said that they needed to believe in their teammate. Which was nice, but she really wished he’d doubt her a bit, because even she was second guessing herself. Did he not understand that she could turn on him like Green had turned on her? Didn’t he know that this plan was not even half baked, that she was basically making it up as she went? Getting data and observing the Lions was not a real plan, Shiro! Did he not know that there was such as a thing as having too much faith in a person?

Pidge peeked out of the window from her cramped seat on the floorboard, distance growing between the Lions and the Black Paladin’s cruiser. Shiro’s legs caged her in, one pressed against her arm, the other leg a hair above her injured shoulder, mindful of the acid burns. A talk needed to be had with whoever designed the cruisers. They were not made for more than one person, not even a small one. She drew her knees closer to her chest to give Shiro more room.

“You know,” she blurted, “my...my dad would come home and talk about this - this pilot. Young and a bit inexperienced, but he was smart and willing to learn. Had a good head on his shoulders. Said he’d be one of the greats in no time flat. So you could imagine his delight when... _ you _ ” - she glanced up at Shiro; his expression softened - “were assigned to pilot the Kerberos mission.”

Her gaze slid back to the window, looking at everything and nothing at once. She’d wanted to tell him this for a while, but it never felt right. Now didn’t feel right either, but Dad and Matt had been on her mind nonstop for days. Word vomit, this was anxiety induced word vomit.

“He was so proud of you, like you were his own son. Matt actually got jealous,” she smiled fondly. “Only lasted about a day or so. Said our parents should just adopt you since they’re doting on you so much, and that the mission would be a test run to see if things would work out. He even came up with sleeping arrangements: He’d stay in his room, you’d have my room, and I’d sleep under the stairs with Gunther, because” - speaking in her best impersonation of Matt - “‘You don’t take up that much space, anyway, Katie. Think of our new brother.’”

Shiro snorted.

Pidge continued, voice returning to normal, “I wanted to go on that mission so badly it hurt. Begged my dad to let me go, as if he had that kind of authority, but he keep telling me that one day -  _ one day _ I’d get to go with a crew of my own. I mean, he was right, of course: You’re a great pilot and I’m a Paladin of Voltron and defending the universe with you weirdos - but how was I supposed to know that at the time, huh? I just wanted to go to space! I got so desperate that I asked Matt if we could switch places; I’d cut my hair and wear his clothes and glasses and no one would notice.”

“Pretty sure your  _ father  _ would’ve noticed.”

“Details,” waving her hand lazily.

She paused. “I was proud, too, you know - of Matt and Dad and you. So I waited for you guys to come home and tell me all about space and bring me back a souvenir.” Pidge’s smile slowly dropped. “I keep waiting and waiting with Mom and Gunther. But then….”

“Pilot error” echoed in her mind, the rage from that phrase clawing its way to the surface. The Garrison didn’t even have the decency to tell the families in person that the Kerberos crew was dead; no, they had to hear about it on the evening news. Her mom’s sobbing still haunted her day and night. It’s what pushed her, Katie Holt, to hack into the Garrison’s computers for the truth and then, as a result, create Pidge Gunderson.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring them back to you, Pidge. I-I should’ve-”

“Don’t,” her eyes snapping to his. Of all of the things to rambled about to distract herself with, why did she pick this topic? There was a reason they never talked about this: It was too raw. “I knew from the start that there’s no way a ‘pilot error’ would happen with the crew my dad spoke so highly of.”

Shiro took a breath, attention split between her and piloting the cruiser. “It was my job to take them to Kerberos  _ and  _ bring them back. I failed. And then I failed to protect them. I even injured Matt-”

“And that saved him from fighting in the ring,” Pidge countered firmly. “I’d have done the same. Shiro, none of that was your fault - it’s the Galra’s. The  _ Galra _ imprisoned you. The  _ Galra  _ separated you. The  _ Galra  _ forced you to fight. The Galra…,” she nodded at his arm, unable to finish. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why does it feel like I did everything wrong?” he let slip. 

Eyes fell to his chest, the air forced from her lungs, then slipped to the window and keep moving until she wasn’t facing him anymore, gaze set on her boots. “Because you’re a good person,” she mumbled.

“A good person wouldn’t have left Commander Holt and Matt behind. A good person would’ve at least tried to get them out, too. I ran like a coward. Ulaz-”

“Saved  _ you  _ for a reason.”

The fire in Pidge returned with vigor. She spun around completely to face him, glaring and eyes burning. Shiro paled as she argued, “You’re not a coward for escaping. You would not have lasted much longer in the arena. The Galra would’ve just keep throwing robeasts and other prisoners at you until either you died or were no longer entertaining ‘cause having the same Champion, knowing that, odds are, they’d win gets boring and predictable. Then they’d probably give you to the druids and keep experimenting on you until you weren’t you anymore.”

The flame dimmed a fraction. “Matt and Dad would’ve wanted you to leave them to save yourself. They wouldn’t have blamed or hated you for it - I don’t. I never, ever, will, Shiro, please -”

The back of the cruiser lifted so suddenly the Paladins’ helmets collided. Pidge shrank back to the floorboards to be out of Shiro’s way, casting her eyes skyward while bracing herself for another possible hit. Green was spotted between the tree limbs, hounding them. It didn’t surprise her, but what did was that Pidge couldn’t see Black. What happened to her? How could Green slip away from Black so quickly? Did the Lion finally turn on Shiro, too?

Then the answer suckerpunched her: the cloaking device.

She closed her eyes, suppressing a groan.  _ Of course _ .

She shook it off. Tracking the Green Lion, keeping an eye out for Black, and informing Shiro on their movements was a better use of energy. After forming Voltron so many times and all those bonding exercises made working together second nature. Rarely did Pidge give verbal cues; just finger taps - the more pressure, the more he needed to steer that direction - and tuning in on their Paladin bond.

Shaking off Green was seamless. Up until the point Green vanished.

Pidge scanned every opening in the trees - blue against green, white against green, brown against green, green against green, but not metal green or black against nature green. She swore, fingernails scraping the cruiser’s interior. “I lost her, Shiro. She’s using the cloak - I can’t-”

An invisible forced ripped through the forest, bark and leaves bursting and falling like confetti at a parade. Words failed to leave her lips in a panicked warning before the Green Lion’s cloaked paw swatted the tail end of the cruiser. The Paladins slammed against the glass, the vehicle tail spinning until it chipped a tree trunk; they crashed to the opposite side of the cruiser. Slam, spin, smash; repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.

Shiro tried desperately to keep them from being scrambled. Tried to brace himself and Pidge for each jeering impact. Tried to steer them in a direction that wasn’t aimed at an obstacle. And failed. And failed and failed and failed.

Regaining control wasn’t plausible. 

The next crash had the cruiser cartwheeling through the brush, the Paladins trapped inside of a vortex, and sailing into a sudden clearing, then bouncing across the surface of open water like a thrown skipping stone.

Momentum eased. Gravity caught up. Water flooded through the cracks.

And they sank down, down, down….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Pidge! 
> 
> (Oooh, late April fools! This chapter is about 4 pages longer than the previous one. HA!)


	3. Echeveria affinis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have a good chapter summary for this, but let's go with...:  
> No helmets, we die like Paladins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny how it took WEEKS for me to write a damn paragraph, but I managed to knock out/extend this chapter within 2 days.   
> Also, sorry this took longer than usual. And for any mistakes. And if it's weird in places, like, my allergies are screwing with me, dudes.  
> Enjoy!

 

One summer, back when Pidge went by Katie and her life was ideally blissful, she was shoved into the deep end of a pool, belly first. The “childish teasing” - as the kid’s parents called it - left her gasping for air and coughing up chlorine water upon surfacing. Her eyes and nose burned. Her chest and stomach were aching and red - though some of that might have been sunburn. Her parents didn’t see that as harmless teasing, neither did she or Matt; the other family insisted that it was. Katie had stalked off mid argument, furiously rubbing at the tears escaping her eyes, and bit her tongue before lashing out at the brat that yelled at her back to “stop bein’ such a baby!”

She swore to never experience that again.

Suspended in water, surrounded by a makeshift void, Pidge keep her word.

Because that sensation from the past was a mere, laughable fraction compared to the agony exploding throughout her body now.

Her mind went blank, a total systems shut down for everything, to give her pain receptors the spotlight. Her body only knew of suffering. She was not conscious of what she did or what was around her: Coughing, gasping, crying, screaming, her lungs never satisfied with the amount of oxygen her armor provided. She was not aware that she was thrashing and clawing at her armor as if to rip out her nerve endings, the tepid waters failing to quench the inferno raging inside.

Dizzy, Pidge clenched her fists -  _ breathe  _ \- grit her teeth -  _ breathe  _ \- folded in on herself -  _ breathe _ .

The gurgled sounds that escaped her throat were not human. She was not human. She was a creature in torment, pleading the universe for mercy and getting none. For that was the way of nature.

~ ~ ~

Once the pain reduced to something somewhat manageable, Pidge swallowed every storm inside of her and listlessly kicked toward the light twinkling overhead. Upon breaching the surface, the helmet was ripped off and fresh air was drawn into Pidge’s aching lungs, followed by body wracking coughs and whimpering.

Exhaustion crept in - pain was draining, after all. It would be nice to rest, her body and mind whispered, to just stop moving and relax a minute. To not think about the Lions, or Voltron, or saving the universe, or the Galra, or anything other than sleeping.

The waves rocked her gently. It was peaceful here, unlike...out there. Everything was so harsh and she so fragile in this moment. A little while wouldn’t hurt, right? She had experienced so much pain within a short window of time, she deserved this. She’d be strong again after a rest. Eyelids heavy, Pidge’s kicking slowed, head slipping underwater. She deserved this. She only needed a minute….

The Green Paladin immediately shot back up, gasping, “Shiro!”

Coughing and spinning around, Pidge searched for her friend, fatigue and vitality an odd mix in her veins. There was land, but she couldn’t see him on the coastline. There were more trees, but he wasn’t amongst those either. There was a cliff, but it was too steep to climb.

“ _ Shiro _ ?!” Her mouth was parched and throat raw from her wailing. 

Not once did she think he’d left her - even moments from death, Shiro would still worry over her, over the team. That was the type of person he was. So where? Where was he? Not on shore, in a tree, or up a cliff, so where…? The only crash sight was what Pidge deduced to be their grand entrance to the lake. Pidge swam in circles, scanning the water around her. Was he thrown farther out from the shoreline than her, out in the open water?

Chills slipped down her spine. Was Shiro still in the cruiser? She looked down, as if she could search the bottom of the lake from the surface. How deep was this water? Was he stuck on something? Did he activate his helmet in time? He should’ve surfaced by now. He should’ve -

His arm. His  _ solid alien metal _ , Galra tech arm.

Pidge swore, loudly and profusely, and jerked her helmet back on. Farther, she had to get farther away from the coast. But swimming straight was awkward with one good arm and her head underwater, searching for any sign of Shiro or the cruiser. So she kicked and struggled and worried about horrible outcomes and possible next steps.

Panic nudged at her core.

Was she even strong enough to pull him out of this lake? Was he even still in the water? Did Black take him? No, he would’ve had the Lion retrieve her, too. He was probably injured - maybe lost consciousness - and was taking it slow? Maybe something ate him? Quiznak, don’t even go there.

Pidge pushed herself farther beneath the water’s surface, allowing her backpack and armor to sink her. It was too bright to see what she needed: pale blue lights or bubbles. Swirling in a slow circle, Pidge trained her eyes on the depths below, thinking,  _ Lights or bubbles, light or bubbles - c’mon, Shiro, give me a sign. Where are you?  _ They didn’t have much time before the Lions found them, and the lake was too vast for her to search alone. She cursed her malfunctioning armor and its abilities; a comm would be immensely helpful.

She sank deeper, pupils dilating in the darkness, and finally noticing that the blue lights on her armor weren’t working either. Neither were the lights in the helmet. Great. Just... _ great _ .

At least the rebreather system was still online.

Temperature dropping and visibility deteriorating, instincts told Pidge to head back to the relative safety of  the light. This was not her element; she needed to get her feet back on solid ground where she belonged. Staring into the nothingness below before searching elsewhere, Pidge’s imagination ran wild: Hungry eyes stared up at her, teeth bared, waiting for her to lower her guard. The attack would be over before she realized it was happening. She’d be swallowed whole or ripped apart, digested in a handful of ticks. Barely deemed a snack.

Shuttering, the girl angled her ascend toward the coastline - maybe she was the one that was thrown farther out, not him. Maybe Shiro surfaced, finally. Maybe -

Movement captured her attention. Hesitating, squinting, she demanded that her eyes focus on the one blob in the distance that was slightly darker than the other blobs. Could be nothing, could be something.

Curiosity overtook.

She urged herself in that direction, the mass gradually taking shape with blots of fluorescents blinking weakly against the light filtered from the sky. Tethered to something, the object shifted purposefully in the water, a beacon of purple blazing to life in a way that was all too familiar. 

~ ~ ~

When Shiro came to, he was in the cruiser, seated exactly how he’d normally be. Only difference was he was underwater and the covering was shattered and ripped half off like something took a giant can opener to it. Woozy, he took a calming breath, grateful he had activated their helmets -

Their?

Reality suckerpunched him:  _ Pidge _ .

The Black Paladin bolted forward, instantly regretting the movement, and grabbed his abdomen, willing for the nausea to settle. Vomiting inside of the only thing keeping him from drowning was not something he wanted to add to his extensive list of horrible life experiences.

Then, a stupid passing thought came: Did goldfish feel like this after being flushed down the toilet? He rolled his eyes. Memory problems or not, comparing himself to a goldfish was a new low even for him.

“...vitals stabilizing.” 

“Shiro? Shiro, can you hear us?”

“Yeah, wakey, wakey, space goo and bakey.”

“Shut up, Lance.”

“Make me, mullet.”

“Hey, guys, maybe - just thinkin’ out loud here - but  _ maybe  _ the first thing Shiro hears shouldn’t be bickering.”

“We’re not bickering,” they declared.

Shiro groaned, envious of Pidge’s damaged communication system, and silently agreed with Hunk.

“Shiro, you’re alive!”

_ Only in the literal sense _ , the Black Paladin wanted to add. But what did he know - he was a nauseous goldfish with one, maybe two, mechanical space cat(s) trying to kill him and his friend.

“Allura  _ just  _ said that he’s vitals were stable.”

“Ya know what, Keith?” grumbled Lance. “Now we’re bickering.” 

“Okay,  _ no _ . No, you’re not, hush,” intervened Hunk with a sigh, exasperated, before the pair had a chance to continue. “How are you doing, Shiro? You okay?”

Shiro wished he could massage his temple to ease the splitting headache. Pidge was hard headed, but he didn’t know that was also  _ literal _ . “Um...yeah, I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse, too.”

Coran called from a distance, “How’s our Number Five?”

“Yes,” winced the Princess from something toppling over on their end. Coran swore in Altean and promised that he would fix that, too. Shiro wondered what the advisor could possibly working on now; there were so many, it was difficult to keep track of his current projects. “How is Pidge?”

Tentatively, Shiro readjusted himself into a position that didn’t result in having blood pooling in his skull. A glance of his surrounds told him the girl in question wasn’t present. “I don’t - I don’t know. She must’ve been thrown out in the crash.”

The cruiser, though mangled, was tilted upward as if it meant to pierce the heavens. It reminded Shiro of his previous life as a pilot. Back when all he wanted was to explore places out of reach and fly, the pulse in his veins matching the hum of the engines. Back before the failure of the Kerberos mission, before the Galra, before imprisonment, before surviving as their Champion, before the PTSD, before Voltron, before becoming the Black Paladin. Back when things were simpler.

_ Before, before, before _ \- he shook himself mentally. Now wasn’t the time for that. He could never go back to before.  _ Focus _ .

“How’re the Lions?”

It wasn’t the question he truly wanted to ask. Pidge was his main concern, but they couldn’t contact her or vise versa. He had to believe that she was fine. This was Pidge, after all; she didn’t go down easily. Too smart, too stubborn to let this stop her. Pidge was fine, she was alive, she was strong and brave. She was so many things, she had to be okay.

_ Pidge is fine. She is alive. She’s strong, smart, brave, and stubborn _ . 

“I’m afraid I cannot connect with the Green Lion,” admitted Allura somberly. “Or tell if Pidge is….”

“Alive or dead” remained unsaid. Didn’t dare speak the worry aloud in fear of it being fact. They couldn’t afford to think like that, couldn’t afford it if it were true. Pidge was wrong: She was not replaceable, she was not a tool. Shiro took a deep breath, repeating,  _ Pidge is fine. She is alive. She’s strong, smart, brave, and stubborn _ .

Allura cleared her throat. “However,” she continued, “I can still feel the Black Lion, though only when she so chooses. Luckily, while you were unconscious, she managed to coerce the Green Lion away from your current location. But you must hurry, find Pidge, and get somewhere safe. The team will track and inform you of the Lions’ movements while Coran and I work out what could be disturbing them.”

He nodded, which he realized was dumb because this was an audio link, not a video link. “Right,” he corrected, eyeing his exit, “understood, Princess.” 

There was no way he could squeeze through the can opener exit; his build was too large, the space between cruiser and lid too narrow. Shiro inspected the door, shattered material jetting out dangerously - again, too close for him to slip through. Not wanting to test his armor, he figured only three members of Team Voltron could swim through with ease: Lance, Keith, and Pidge.

And the mice, so that’s technically seven. But that would be ridiculous; why would Plachu, Platt, Chulatt, and Chuchule even be in his Lion’s cruiser? That was not an appropriate place for them to play. Did they even have suits? Did space rodents wear clothes? Did Alteans make suits that small? Well, maybe they wouldn’t need to because -

Shiro paused. Drew in a breath. And let it out slowly. 

This place was making him mad, certifiable. Not the Galra, oh no. What finally did him in was a little green planet that makes Voltron Lions and Paladins crazy. First labeling himself as a nauseous goldfish, now he’s thinking about the safety of mice in space suits. He needed caffeine, a nap - something. He needed to escape this damn cruiser. He needed to find Pidge.

The cruiser groaned, protesting from being forcibly opened once more, as Shiro bent the door to his will. Leverage and raw strength created a gap somewhat big enough for him to drag himself through. It was difficult, smaller than what he had hoped for, the door squeezing his torso uncomfortably. He braced his feet on either side of the cruiser’s interior, pushing and taking some of the work off his upper body. 

As sweat beaded his forehead, a memory of the training deck surfaced. It was a comment from Lance - Shiro wasn’t sure how it originated, but it stuck with him.

“ _ You and Shiro are beef sticks, not toothpicks _ ,” Lance had observed and shared with the team.

Keith gaped. “ _ What _ ?”

Hunk then corrected, “ _ I am not, in fact, a beef stick. If I were any kind of stick, I’d most likely a cheese stick _ .”

“ _ Great. Now I’m sore  _ and  _ hungry _ ,” grumbled Pidge, spread-eagle on a training mat. She lifted her head, growling, “ _ Thank you, Hunk and Lance. _ ”

“ _ Nah, look, man, what I’m sayin’ is _ ,” Lance insisted, stepping over his teammate to put an arm around the Yellow Paladin, “ _ you’re strong. Sure, Shiro’s probably all beef. But you - you’re, like, a cheesy beef stick _ .”

“ _ Is this supposed to be a pep talk or…? _ ” Keith whispered to Shiro, who shrugged, also not knowing how to take this conversation.

Hunk poked at his stomach, slightly frowning. “ _ Pretty sure I’m all cheese _ -”

“ _ Your bayard’s a fucking canon, dude _ ,” defended the Red Paladin. 

“ _ Language _ ,” scolded Shiro, swearing he heard Pidge snicker because, for once, she wasn’t the one in trouble for cussing. Turning to Hunk, he praised, “ _ You can throw Galra soldiers and drones like it’s nothing _ .”

“ _ And you can sweep Shay off her feet in more ways than one _ ,” added Lance, watching Hunk’s blush redden with each comment.

“ _ You and Lance literally carry this team _ .”

“ _ More importantly, you carry the weight of the sins of this team _ ,” offered Pidge. 

Lance snapped his fingers, grinning. “ _ Fat don’t lift that, you loveable cheesy beef stick _ .”

It was an odd conversation, and Shiro never fully understood what Lance’s “pep talk” meant until he was trying to wiggle out of a makeshift Paladin trap. However, what he  _ did  _ understand was how to use his size to his advantage, pushing and pulling and shimmying his way to temporary freedom. 

The cruiser rocked to the side, the door colliding with the rocky slope it landed on and clamping around Shiro’s left ankle. Despite the armor, pain rocketed up his leg. It was, by far, not the worse pain he has ever felt, but it still had him gritting his teeth and trapping any noise of distress in his throat. He knew the team was still listening and didn’t want to worry them; they should focus on finding Pidge and figuring out what was wrong with the Green Lion. A bruised ankle was nothing. It was his fault anyway - he released the door too soon, wasn’t quick enough in escaping. He could handle this.

Shiro tugged and shook his leg, hoping his ankle would slip free. Instead, the cruiser tilted more and more, the fall slow and surreal without the force of gravity. At the mercy of his own vehicle, he rolled with it two full rotations and half of another before slamming into a boulder, leaving him parallel to the lake’s mosaic surface.

In that moment, Shiro couldn’t tell if his ankle was sprained or fractured. Couldn’t tell if his back or chest hurt worse. Was grateful that his right arm was a prosthetic because his hand had bent in a direction a real one was never meant to. Everything hurt - again, not the worst by his standards, but it was enough to have him grunting and hissing through grit teeth.

“Shiro,” came Keith’s concern, “what happened? Are you okay?”

He stilled. In through his nose and out through his mouth, the Paladin carefully breathed through the pain for a few moments. “I’m fine,” he lied, checking if the tech in his body was functional. Shiro clenched his fist and wiggled his fingers a few times, swung his arm this way and that. Bent, but working, he concluded. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, and Zarkon’s actually a nice guy,” deadpanned Lance.

“And Coran’s cooking isn’t horrible,” added Hunk.

A very distinctive “ _ I heard that! _ ” from a mustached Altean was heard in the distance. No apologies were made.

“I said I was fine,” Shiro insisted, “just-”

“You don’t sound fine,” they said.

Shiro either needed to get better about lying about how “okay” he was pretending to be, or actually start “being okay.” He didn’t know what that was anymore; wasn’t being alive enough? “Look, it’s nothing,” he semi-elaborated. “Just a little hiccup in getting out of the cruiser, that’s all. I’m fine. I got it under control.”

Not completely satisfied but knowing that was all they were going to get, the trio of Paladins accepted their leader’s explanation. They told him to be more careful - couldn’t have two injured Paladins on a weird planet, now could they?

Shiro took a knee and set to work. 

Prying the door open yielded better results than the last time - not being crushed again or trapping another body part was  _ better _ . However, his ankle was still stuck.

He was trying not to further destroy his cruiser, the hesitation of melting the metal away fueled by the knowledge of the castleship’s ever-growing list of repairs, and he only needed a few inches to free himself. After a few minutes, with the feeling of eyes following him, Shiro decided that adding another item to their repairs paled compared to locating Pidge. One more gaping hole in the cruiser wasn’t going to break them. They might as well start from scratch at this point anyway and make apologies.

Attention divided between watching his surroundings and melting his ankle free, Shiro didn’t realize how thinned his focus was until a slight vibration echoed through the cruiser. The tremor paralyzed his limbs, skyrocketed his vitals. Bloody scenarios raged within his skull in a heartbeat. Kicking himself for being careless, he slowly lifted his head.

And lunged. 

And immediately froze.

Recognition, confusion, realization, horror, relief, guilt punched him turn after turn after turn.

The fight drained from him. Because there was Pidge. Startled, injured, puffy-eyed Pidge, hands held up in surrender and mouth rambling apologies that only she could hear.

His body slumped; his heart rate did not.

“Talk to me, Shiro,” came Lance’s voice. “What’s going on?”

“Pidge,” he breathed, drawing back and deactivating his Galra arm.

Songs of relief replaced questions after Shiro allowed the team to see what he was seeing: Pidge. He cringed at their sudden volume, but couldn’t help but feel the same. She was okay - injured and clearly hurting. But she was alive.  _ Pidge was alive _ . Alive and well enough to find him and that’s all that matter for a few ticks.

He waved, smiling as he witnessed the tension leave Pidge’s shoulders. Then frowned when she started talking into a damaged comm link. “What?” he said, gesturing at his helmet then shrugging. 

She stopped, cheeks slightly flushed due to her forgetfulness. 

“Keith,” said Shiro, tapping his right arm and hoping Pidge understood. “What was she saying?”

“Aside from saying my name just then and apologizing for scaring the crap outta you? Beats me. Pidge’s such a motormouth, it’s hard to follow.” 

He had gathered that much himself. “Anything else?”

Pidge and Keith probably had the best non-verbal communication skills of the team. Though he’s known Keith longer, Shiro was in awe at the pair’s unique ability cementing so quickly. So he was hoping that bond would pull through for them again.

Keith reevaluated his teammate’s body language. “She’s...anxious about something.”

As the guys talked, Shiro pointed at Pidge, then signalled if she was okay.

The Green Paladin leveled a look that he hoped would never be aimed at him again. Her expression softened a moment later, realizing that he was simply worried. They were all worried. 

She gestured at her injured right shoulder, pointed at a few of her other wounds, then drew her forefinger across her throat. Tapped her left arm and swirled a finger next to her head. Thumped her helmet and extinguished lights on her armor with a fist, shrugging.

_ No _ . He was going to take that as a “No.”

Pidge signed if he was okay. 

Shiro pointed to his oversized ankle weight.

“That’s it? She’s anxious -  _ Pidge _ ?” questioned Lance. “I could’ve told you that! She’s almost as nervous as Hunk half the time. Like a tiny genius ball of rage, caffeine, stubbornness, and anxiety. What else is new?”

“I mean, after all she’s been through today, she has every reason to be anxious,” Hunk defended. “I know I would be - so would you, so would the rest of us. Like, her anxiety is giving me anxiety, and thinking about how Green turned on Pidge is giving me even  _ more  _ anxiety, and Slav’s been rattling off the probabilities of my Lion turning against me and the other Lions turning against you guys and, wow, is it hot in here?” 

“Don’t listen to Slav. That’s in alternate realities, anyway,” Lance reasoned calmly. “In  _ this  _ reality, all we have to do is listen to what Pidge said and keep our Lions away from the planet and we’re golden.”

“Yeah, I understand that, but what if-”

“ _ Hunk _ ,” said Keith. “In this reality, I’ll listen to Pidge over Slav any day. And right now, she needs us, so focus. Please,” he added. “And yeah, of course, she’s anxious, but it’s - it’s different.” He sighed, frustrated with himself. “Somehow. It’s like this...weird gut feeling I have. I just...don’t like that planet for some reason, and I can’t explain it, but do you guys feel  _ something _ , too?”

None of them rejected the idea immediately, because, somewhere deep inside, they knew he was right. Whether it be individual instinct or them tapping into their fledgling Paladin bond, they trusted the uneasiness churning in their cores. 

“Baku,” said Hunk and Lance in unison.

“You think?” asked Hunk. “Well, probably not, like, an  _ actual  _ Baku, but something similar, maybe? Not that it could be it or anything, but I’m totally getting the creeps over  _ something _ . Keith’s right.”

“Yeah,” agreed Lance, “that’s the vibe I’m getting from Shiro’s video feed, too.” He paused. “And from...Blue? How can -? You know what, nevermind that. Just - as the Guardian Spirit of Water, I’m saying this: Get out, now. You two are nearly defenseless without your Lions. Against a Baku or otherwise.”

A stern nod from Shiro had Pidge moving to his side to help keep some weight off his ankle and stand watch. Galra tech met Altean in an arch of purple. By no means was he gentle in his escape: Sparks popped with every contact, blobs of liquid metal seeped at each hack, the surrounding water temperature rapidly approached the boiling point.

He and Pidge endured. 

With a final blow, Shiro was free. Proper circulation returned to his left foot, as well as renewed pain; he welcomed it as he kicked off the cruiser’s side with Pidge in tow.

Concern had him checking if she was keeping up with his pace, if she was doing okay. Paranoia had him scanning their surroundings. Movement had him grabbing Pidge’s uninjured arm and pulling her ahead of him, urging her to go faster.

Beams of shimmering light haloed Pidge. It highlighted the scraps and bruises covering her. The way her eyebrows scrunched up and jaw set to smother the pain when she moved too abruptly. The way her body racked when she took a breath too deep. The way her hand extended to pull him along, though she was the one that needed more help. The way she glared at him for rejecting her offer and pushing her ahead again.

The way her bright eyes suddenly widened in panic, his name forming on her lips.

The tip of a frayed tail appeared, as if summoned from the depths, and batted him away as one would with an annoying insect. As the armor across his chest crunched into him and his helmet was ripped off his head, Shiro acknowledge before the pain registered:

_ Their anxiety wasn’t lying to them _ .

~ ~ ~

A fading trail of blood. A wayward helmet. Water rushing against open wounds. A muffled scream of pain and desperation. The creature watching, waiting, below. Shiro ahead, drowning, struggling to reach air. 

Pidge swam with the current, cursing anything and everything when Shiro’s shoulder slammed into a stone reef. Digging deep, she pushed harder, faster, watching precious air in the form of bubbles escape his mouth. 

Boots met rock only a tick before Pidge began to climb along the vertical surface as fast as her fingertips would allow. Water flow eased; Shiro drifted away from the rocks in a way that had Pidge wondering if he was still conscious. She glared at the predator, almost challenging it to stop her from reaching him, and kicked off the reef as hard as she could.

Mindful of his injuries, Pidge grasped Shiro’s calf and pulled herself upward until she was face-to-face with him. His eyes were closed, lips parted, body fairly limp; she noted that his nose was the source of the bloody tendrils masking his face. After taking the deepest breath she could muster, Pidge ripped off her helmet, a cascade of bubbles showering her, then Shiro while she secured it onto his head.

Nothing. 

Without hesitation, the Green Paladin kicked his left ankle with the tip of her boot. His body jerked, her eyes snapping up to his painstruck face, and he coughed and hacked up water and wheezed. She never thought that seeing her teammate in pain would be so relieving; coughing meant breathing and breathing meant Shiro was alive. Pride and guilt swirled in her stomach as she pulled them to the surface, watching the circling creature from the corner of her eye.

Pidge gasped, gulping in the air, and immediately spotted the shoreline. Sinking back under, Pidge pushed on Shiro’s back, leveling him with the water’s surface. “Help me kick!” she shouted after flipping over to float on her back. 

Shiro stared at her, doe-eyed, still trying to even his breathing.

She locked his Galra arm across her chest, grit her teeth, and began to pull and kick the both of them. “Now, Shiro! C’mon,  _ kick _ . We’re almost there.”  

Shallow water. They just need to reach shallow water and they could walk, could be on land and away from that - that  _ thing _ .

Steadily coming out of his stupor, Shiro’s free arm paddled them along and kicked with his good leg. Pidge’s head dipped in the water after praising and encouraging him to judge the depths between surface and floor. Occasionally, she’d test if her toes could touch, throwing them off balance when she would sink too far; Shiro would pull her back up. 

The moment she could keep her head above water with her toes in the sand, Pidge shifted her hold on Shiro, slipping her arms around his chest and dragging him along, ignoring his claims of his ability to walk, until the lake couldn’t help her carry his full weight. They collapsed in the shin-deep water, panting.

“I’m sorry,” wheezed Pidge.

Shiro removed her helmet and handed it back. “What are you apologizing for?” He coughed once and gripped his chest, wincing, “I should be the one apologizing.”

“Dunno,” she half shrugged.

There was a list, actually. Coming to this planet, losing control of her Lion, dragging him into this mess and him getting injured because of it. Purposefully causing him pain, though it saved his life. For not being smarter, faster, or stronger. For needing someone to rescue her. For worrying the team. For her pride, for her arrogance. For bringing up painful memories, for snapping at him. For failing as a Paladin and a friend. For her inability to be enough. 

She hooked the helmet under her left arm, locking away her reasons. Explaining was tiring and embarrassing. “For everything? Why’re you sorry?”

He wiped at the blood draining from his nostril. “‘Bout the same?”

It was oddly comforting how he didn’t tell her she was wrong to feel this way; though curious, she did the same for him.

A long shadow slithered in the lake, short dorsal fins piercing the surface and startling the Paladins. It weaved and dove, the tail slapping the water. For a breath, it was gone - a breath that instilled the renewed urgency to flee. 

Unsteadily, it rose with them, up and up and up, black and sleek and seemingly blind and scaleless. Hissing revealed a vortex of teeth made for drilling holes into flesh rather than ripping it apart.  _ Form fits the function _ , the information came. This wasn’t a near-surface predator: This was a bottom feeder, a scavenger. Why the quiznak was it here? She couldn’t recall seeing any substantial prey. Was food so scarce that it was forced to venture out of its natural habitat, to attack something that wasn’t a part of its food chain?

Didn’t matter - they couldn’t fight it, so they had to run.

But how could they escape? Shiro couldn’t walk alone. She refused to leave him and couldn’t carry him. They’d make it,  _ maybe _ , a few yards before being eaten.

No fighting. No fleeing. That meant...freezing.

So this was freezing. Huh, there really was a third response to danger when there were no more options. Freezing, they were freezing. Two of the five Paladins of Voltron, Defenders of the Universe, were freezing and were about to be eaten alive on some wild planet Pidge decided to explore on a whim. Not in a fiery battle with the Galra. Not rescuing and freeing prisoners. No.  _ Here _ , of all places, with no backup to help them. Nothing glorious or honorable about it, no good resulting from their deaths. 

Just... _ dead _ .

The air shifted, blowing away their tension. Curious, Pidge peeked up at Shiro, who stared at the sky above as if he didn’t know what to make of it either. This reminded her of -

_ The Black Lion. _

The moment the realization dawned on Pidge, Black’s claws were goring and squashing the lake scavenger with her full weight into the planet with a roar.

Blood. There was so much blood. Blood painted Black. Blood covered the surrounding environment, it dripping and entrails clinging. Blood splattered the Paladins.

Stunned, vaguely disgusted, Shiro and Pidge gaped as colossal waves rushed away from the Black Lion, the creature’s skin and guts and blood jetting out as if to touch its prey one last time.

Sense hit Shiro before the water did. He forced the helmet back on Pidge’s head and held on to her, his back to the waves in hopes of shielding her. They tumbled and rolled aimlessly, powerless to fight the tidal wave, bashing into boulders and limbs scraping against rocks and bark. Armor chipped away, fresh human blood joined the debris.

When Shiro’s back slammed into a jagged boulder, Pidge had enough. She snaked her good arm free, grabbing hold of a crevice before the tide pulled them away to deeper waters once more, and clutched to it like a lifeline. Boots dug into the sand, her small frame pinning Shiro; she felt him following suit, felt and heard his wheezing. No doubt he fractured a few ribs from that.

Once the waves calmed to the point where they could stand without being knocked off their feet, Pidge stepped back and turned to face the Black Lion, putting Shiro behind her. Yes, Black had saved them, but Pidge was still wary of the Lion. No, she couldn’t protect either of them if Black fired a laser, but standing your ground was important to a Voltron Lion.

They stared as the forest swayed around Pidge, as the air danced around Black.

Pidge rubbed her palm into her forehead, a headache blooming behind her eyes. She was realizing how unsteady and drained, hungry and thirsty she was. Didn’t even fight Shiro tugging the back of her armor to stand down. Lions respected when one knew to yield, too. 

“It’s okay, Pidge. She won’t do anything,” he said, a hand on her lower back to keep her from stumbling. “She wondering if we’re alright.” 

Hip finding the boulder, Pidge glanced between the awestruck Black Paladin and his bloody Lion hovering over her kill, happy and jealous of their bond. Eyes shining, they were in their own world, communicating. She smiled sadly, wondering if she and Green would ever have that type of bond again.

Shiro bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Black.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering what the chapter title means... Echeveria affinis is a type of succulent plant, a.k.a. the "Black Knight." I spotted one a few weeks ago and I HAD TO GET IT. I named it Shiro. Is - is that weird? That's weird, isn't it? Whatever. Hope you enjoyed the update!   
> Again - THANKS SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS AND WONDERFUL COMMENTS.


	4. Fallen Leaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *walks in really late with a fic update* Ha..ha...I'm sorry. I've had a lot of personal things happen since the last update, and writing was just not happening. And I've been staring at this fucking monstrous thing forever and honestly I'm SICK OF LOOKING AT IT. JUST TAKE IT - JUST TAKE IT, FUCK MISTAKES, I CAN'T. And it's, like, 1:30 AM and I have been allergy-fucked all week. I'm a snotty mess of I DON'T CARE.  
> So - here it is! Thanks for the wonderful comments and kudos! It fuels me.  
> Also some of y'all are like...really loving that I'm torturing Pidge. Ya nasties - nasties after my own heart 'cause apparently my brain was like YES. YES DO THAT. MORE OF THAT. FUCK WHAT YOU WANTED TO HAPPEN IN THIS CHAPTER. MOVE THAT TO THE NEXT. DRAG OUT THIS PAIN. So Imma sorta blame y'all for what happens to our girl in this chapter. ENJOY!

With the Black Lion gone, Pidge was hesitant to leave Shiro. However, his helmet, she reminded herself as she edged into the lake, was their only way of communication with the team and best way of tracking the Lions from a safe distance. If it wasn’t broken - please, _please,_ don’t be broken.

But she didn’t look back. Looking back gave Shiro a reason to volunteer himself to fetch his missing helmet. Pidge wadded into hip-deep water with new determination; that argument was hard won and if she didn’t keep moving, she was going to keel over from caught-up exhaustion. So she left him, sitting on a hidden rock on the beach, to wring out the contains of her backpack and clean the blood from his face.

Where forest met lake, lodged in a tangled nest of roots and mud, the helmet awaited retrieval, Black had informed her Paladin. Reaching it, however, meant an awkward swim along the branchy coast in water that was no longer Balmera crystal clear. Blood-tinted water, entrails, and slimy skin welcomed Pidge. Her mind went elsewhere as she snaked herself through and around exposed roots.

Though she was skilled at teleporting her thoughts from reality, some tattered flesh brushing against her bare forearm still had her suppressing a squeal, the texture threatening to turnout her stomach.

Shuttering, but pressing on, Pidge called up the image of Shiro removing her laptop from the frayed backpack, cringing at the cracks and dents on its surface and water draining from the ports. Shoving aside the pang of loss in her gut, Pidge told herself she would make another one. A better one, a Paladin worthy laptop; a damage resistant, waterproof one. And re-upload all of her files she had saved in both the castleship and the Green Lion.

Green.

She still didn’t have an idea of how to fix her Lion.

But she would, she always did. Pidge _will_ reforge their bond and they’ll be better and stronger than ever. There was always a solution. There was _always_ a way.

Like nature.

The Green Paladin smiled. Cut it up with the winds, burn it, waterlog it, have the earth crumble beneath it - nature always finds a way to thrive, given time. Just like her. Just like Green.

 _We’ll get through this,_ she thought, spotting a round, black and not-quite-so-pure-white object bobbing sluggishly in the water, locked within a odd waterfall of slick roots and mud. Hope cautiously bloomed behind her ribcage, for more than one reason.

It was a tad awkward half pulling herself and half swimming using only three limbs. As more time passed, her right arm became increasingly useless; the cocktail of chemicals in her brain bleeding from her, cruelly leaving her in more pain and energy drained. She couldn’t go on like this much longer, she acknowledged. Then worried about infection - would the medical kit from the Black Lion be enough for both her and Shiro? Open wounds and alien... _debris_ did not mix well. Would it keep them from falling to illness long enough to return to the castleship?  

Reaching in to remove the helmet from it’s temporary prison felt as if Pidge was dangling half her body into a sleeping beast’s open mouth. She withdrew quickly, helmet clamped in her grasp.

Backpedalling to the relative safety of the beach had Pidge wishing she was left-handed. At least before she had the option of using her right arm, though it pained her, but now, with the helmet secured between her arm and chest, progress was much slower. Her head dipped under the water more often, seeing things she could never erase from her memory.

Swimming under a half-tunnel of low hanging roots and limbs gave Pidge a better view of the carnage under the lake’s surface. There, watching a barrage of _somethings_ wreathing over a much larger something, the curious Paladin paused.

Faint beams of light filtered through the bloody water, revealing -

Pidge sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, wide eyes darting away.

Then peeked back a few frantic moments later.

The larger thing in question rolled, light exposing the gaping socket where the lake creature’s milky eye once was and rows of teeth that shone too brightly in the muck, gums and flesh eaten to the jaw bone. Bits of gore floated carelessly around the poor, dead thing. Absentmindedly, Pidge understood that this would happen - even scavengers would become food for other scavengers - but didn’t think it’d be so soon, so fast.

She shifted her focus to the feeding scavengers. The size of eels, small compared to the giant they were picking clean, that rotated their entire bodies to rip away flesh.

Then it hit her. These creatures were miniature clones of the scavenger that Black killed. _Junivels,_ Pidge mouthed, fascinated and mind racing. What if that was the mother? And if that was the mother then -?

She recalled the creature’s sluggish movements, recalled that it had watched them for a time between attacks. Maybe it was exhausted, weak, and - Pidge never spotted any of the junivels until then - pregnant. That would explain things.

Pidge gaped at a new theory: _Matriphagy._

Offspring eating their mother - and vise versa - happened with certain species of animals on Earth, so it stood to reason that it would happen elsewhere in space; it wasn’t as uncommon as one would think. Though it meant a slow, agonizing death, the females would willingly gave up their bodies as nourishment for their spawn, being eaten from the inside out over the course of weeks. Born from violence and survival and instinct. It was something Pidge could not grasp, not even after watching countless documentaries of everything under the sun with her family as a child. Too foreign and bizarre for comparison by human standards.

Technology was so much simpler. Not so cruel.

Pidge swallowed thickly. Be it cannibalism or matriphagy, it was time to go, she decided. Shiro was probably worrying, and she wasn’t making good time as it was.

Keeping an eye on the mass of churning bodies while pulling herself along was in Pidge’s best interest, for safety. Though that didn’t mean she still couldn’t be awed and disgusted _and_ cautious while doing so. Didn’t mean that she wasn’t already thinking of questions to ask Coran later.

They probably wouldn’t bother her, since she was very much alive and not in their way, Pidge rationalized, pausing at the mouth of the tunnel. Ten, maybe twenty, feet of open water separated Pidge from the next area of cover. Nothing had taken an interest in her, so she pushed onward, clinging to the rocks. She glanced over her shoulder once her palm touched what she figured to be a root of a tree that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be on land or in water. Nothing still.

Clutching the helmet tighter, Pidge shifted to the next root and peeked again. All clear. She moved to the next one, looking again, and pushed off to reach the next once she deemed it safe. It reminded her of playing on the monkey bars at a playground, always checking how far she’d gone, how far she had to go, how far the ground was from her dangling feet. Simple and childish and oddly calming.

Holding that thought, Pidge continued with her rhythm of reaching and looking.

The beach wasn’t far now. Just three more and she could walk the rest of the way. She kicked off and stared behind her as she glided to the next root, hand and feet connecting easily before she turned to launch herself again.

A close-up of an alien junivel’s vortex of razor teeth filled Pidge’s field of vision. She froze. Somehow keep her composure, not screaming or flinching. However, there was a lot of internalized swearing and panicking as she watched the blind creature size her up, sweat collecting between her armor and skin.

Pidge made the first move to swim around instead of through; it hissed, teeth whirling within its maw as a mane of lacy tendrils flared around its neck. A threat. Setting her jaw, the Green Paladin shifted her hold on Shiro’s helmet. She was a threat of her own caliber. Injured, scared, or otherwise.

Left-handed, she swung with what might she had left, the blow connecting and sending the tiny scavenger back into open water. Pidge got to the second root before being stopped by another, slightly larger one that immediately darted to her right forearm. Teeth grazed her before batting it away.

Another took its place, more closing in around the Paladin.

Surging upward between the thick tangle of roots, pass a row of scavengers and even more rows of teeth, was the only escape. Pidge breached the lake’s surface and scrambled onto the tree’s lower half fast enough to avoid flesh being eaten, but slow enough for the pain to have her alternating between gasping and gritting her teeth. Wincing, her fingers ghosted over her throbbing right arm - it was bleeding again and the skin was angrier, redder, than before. That medical kit better only be a few notches below a cryopod or she was in trouble if they stayed here longer than two days.

She slumped as much as she could against the tree. Too much adrenalin had raged throughout her veins for too long. It wasn’t working as properly anymore. The pain, the exhaustion, the thirst - it was crushing her. She couldn’t...she couldn’t -

Frustrated and choking back her emotions, Pidge knocked the back of her head against the tree. Hard.

She had to.

_Thud._

She had to dig deep.

_Thud._

Deeper.

_Thud._

No, deeper than that.

_Thud._

It hurts. It sucked.

_Thud._

But she had no choice.

_Thud!_

She took a deep breathe. Held it. Exhaled slowly.

“Dig deep, dig deep, dig deep, dig deep, dig deep,” the Green Paladin muttered, eyes bouncing around for an escape and ignoring the sharp slaps of the water and grumbled hissing. She couldn’t stay here: Shiro was injured and waiting, the team was waiting, Green was waiting. “You can do it, Pidge.”

A plan pieced together, and she wondered if this was the best she could do when the helmet sailed from her hand, it splashing and bobbing in the shallow water ahead. But both hands were needed for this.

The distance was questionable. Could she make it? Could she keep herself from slipping off _if_ she did? The tree root was narrower than the one she was standing on and slick with what she assumed to be this planet’s version of algae; the vines above didn’t look sturdy, either, and those were part of her plan to swing herself closer to the beach. No matter what happened though, avoiding the water was not plausible.

Not ideal. Not ideal at all. But the beach was in sight - just _right there_ \- and maybe the little slimy worms in the lake wouldn’t attack her. Maybe a living being was too much trouble. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt too bad when they tore her apart because who was she kidding? They weren’t going to leave her alone. And it’s not like they didn’t have a _massive quiznaking corpse_ for them to feed on _right next to them_ or anything. No, that would be too ridiculous.

What she would give to have her suit’s utilities and bayard operational.

She shook her head. Surviving came down to a mental game and wishing did not equal to reality, so there was no point in dwelling on it. She going to do what needed to be done. It was going to be unpleasant.

But she was going to do it anyway.

Drawing up strength, Pidge got into position and envisioned how to make the leap successfully; replayed it over and over until she felt she had a fraction of a chance. “Ah, just quiznak it,” she grunted.

And pounced.

Her foot hit the center, only to slip a tick later. Pidge pitched right, having her right hip and ribs take the brunt of the crash, arms strangling the root to secure her safety. Cursing through the pain and panting, she took a few moments to collect herself.

Eyeing the vines just out of reach had her consider calling for Shiro. As if her pride would allow her to do so. Not that he _could_ carry her with his busted ankle anyway. He _would_ , though, if she so much as whined too loudly. Too damn self-sacrificing for his own good.

Resolving herself to the situation, Pidge shimmied up the root until she was shadowed by the denseness of the forest hanging above, limbs trembling with overexertion, and stretched out to grasp the strongest-looking vine within reach. Pickings were slim. She tugged on it, testing its strength and length and mobility before wrapping it along her left arm and grasping it until her knuckles were white. Swinging her right leg over without slipping off her perch was tricky and awkward, but she managed and pushed off immediately.

The vine held, miraculously. Pidge wasn’t sure if her left arm would, not with her full weight and the vine constricting blood flow painfully and threatening to dislocate her shoulder. She held out until the right moment to release through sheer force of will, feet stumbling. The angle, realizing far too late, was wrong - too sideways for a good landing and had her twisting around to crash tailbone first into the water.

Scavengers charged her, tiny razors digging into whatever exposed flesh they could.

Pidge roared in agony.

And scrambled backwards to the beach. And thrashed and clawed at the creatures. And screamed some more when she did manage to rip one off of her, only to have another claim a different spot on her body. Three on her back, one on her left calf, one on her right thigh, two on her right forearm and one on the left. But the one on her right shoulder hurt the most, its teeth sinking deeper as she squirmed and cried and fought.

Heat radiated across her back, gone in an instant, the smell of scorched gore taking its place and three sets of teeth removed before Pidge could register what happened. Sizzling and popping of flesh and agonized hissing filled her right ear, skin tearing as the creature stubborning latched on until death claimed it. The two on her forearm followed suit as their sibling; the rest released their holds, favoring survival.

Black spots teased her vision, jaw clenched, as Shiro dragged her to shore, an arm around her middle and struggling to keep himself from hurting them both.

Kneeling next to Pidge, he didn’t touch her after that. Didn’t ask her why she didn’t call for help. Didn’t ask if she was okay, because she clearly was not. Just watched in silent horror, unsure of what to do, as she struggled to breathe through her sobbing and jerk her helmet off to press her forehead into the hot sand, holding up a trembling hand to keep him back until her nerves settled.

Shiro complied. Pidge cradled her arm protectively to her chest, bit back her screams, replacing them with labored breaths and strangled grunts. Staying so very still, as if that would make the pain disappear faster.

The moment the pain lessened, Pidge was on her feet with a snarl and storming to the lake once more. Stomping and snagging up a stick as she went, murderous intent rolled off her.

Shiro staggered after, catching her by the arm. “Don’t,” he winced. “Don’t be cruel.”

Pidge knew she couldn’t fight a lake full of creatures, knew it wouldn’t lessen their pain. But she was hurting and she wanted what hurt her to hurt even more. And just -

Something dark-gray slithering to Shiro’s foot caught her attention, and she drove the stick through it without hesitation, without remorse. It struggled, hissed, as Pidge wedged the wood further in and watched it stain the surrounding water a deeper red. It was limp when she removed it from the lake, barely noticing that there was more wood puncturing it than there should’ve been, and flung it away to be eaten by its siblings.

Jerking her arm free and keeping her head lowered, Pidge noisily made her way to her original target: the Black Paladin’s helmet, snatching it and tossing it to its owner. Coldly brushing passed Shiro to collect her things on the beach might as well had been a slap to the face with the way he flinched.

Wordlessly, she stalked back to his side after shoving her helmet into the backpack, holding it out for him to take; he shouldered it and she slipped under his left arm. Shiro caught onto what she was trying to do.

“Pidge, no,” he protested, pulling away. “Your shoulder.”

“Your ankle,” she countered.

“I’ll hurt you even if I lean more on your left side.” Shiro stood straight, balancing on his right foot. “I - I can’t do that.”

Pidge keep a grip on his wrist. “And _I_ can’t allow you to walk on a fractured ankle.”

“I’m not -”

“You will.”

“I won’t.”

Her head jerked up, molten gold clashing with storms. “Shiro,” Pidge growled, “I’m fine. Now _move_.”

The Black Paladin, the Head and leader of Voltron, Champion of the arena, survivor of a Galra prison and its tortures, paled. Paled upon looking into the eyes of a girl that barely reached the center of his chest. A girl that weighed less than what he could bench press. A girl that he could overpower using his left arm alone. A girl that favored machines and facts over people and socializing. A girl that wasn’t intimidating by society’s definition.

And he paled. His face so ashen compared to the dried blood smeared across it.

And it suddenly crushed so much shame and guilt into Pidge’s core that she couldn’t breathe. Because he - Shiro, fearless and strong and terrifying and kind _Shiro_ \- was afraid. _Of her_ . And - and she just...did _that horrible thing_ to that little scavenger a moment ago. And -

Quiznak, what was happening to her? She didn’t want to be like this. They needed to get away from here.

She hung her head low, eyes stinging and throat clenching, and loathed how effortless it was to get him to match her sluggish steps.

~ ~ ~

Following the Black Lion’s directions, the Paladins leaned against and dragged each other toward the promise of safety.

It was farther than Pidge thought. She didn’t complain aloud, though, guilt silencing her, and focused on navigating the terrain that had an affinity of tripping them. Suppressing scream after scream, Pidge told herself to dig deep, to depths she didn’t know she had and beyond that and keep moving, her insides scraped raw and hollow, her body running on the tail end of fumes and empty promises of rest.

Shiro got them back on their feet without a word, as if he was operating on autopilot. It worried her. She wanted to make it right, wanted to bring him back to himself, but didn’t know how.

Swaying slightly and standing due to her own bullheadedness, Pidge studied the ground thick with greenery, frustrated at her lack of too many answers.

She felt and heard Shiro take a measured breath and stopped for his sake. Slowly lifting her eyes to peek up at him when she felt move his fingers move under her hold, Pidge wondered how much pain he was in. Were his ribs broken or just bruised? What about his ankle? His nose? His head?

“There,” he breathed, pointing ahead.

His color was back, though sweat beaded his skin. The slight upturned corner of his mouth conflicted with the wrinkles of discomfort across his brow. At least his nose had finally stopped bleeding, drying blood trails present of the front of his armor and the lower half of his face. Satisfied, given the situation, with what she found, Pidge followed his line of sight.

She had to keep herself from collapsing with relief.

Shelter. There was shelter ahead covered in vegetation with a titanic tree and its roots strangling it on the left side. Massive and oddly shaped it may be, Black had promised it was safe and Pidge had to fight back the tears. She dug deep, swearing to herself that this was the last time, and managed to get them there without tripping. Then, and only then, did Pidge allow herself to fall to the ground of their green haven that echoed strangely with each step they took and closed her eyes, knowing that she was safe for a sliver of time.

~ ~ ~

Fifteen dobashes. That’s the time slice Shiro allowed himself to rest before getting to work.

He felt tired eyes following him as he emptied the backpack and laid the clothes out to dry. Felt them trace his hobbled steps as he inspected some of the shelter’s interior that didn’t sit right with him; it was a part of a fallen Galra ship, after all. Caught those same eyes staring, widening, when he faced her and asked, testing the waters, “Are you okay, Pidge?”

She sat rigid against the wall opposite him, legs sprawled out in front her, and blinked up at him as if _she_ couldn’t understand what _he_ was saying for once. “I’m….” Pidge fidgeted with the empty water pouch in her hands for a tick. “I don’t know anymore. How ‘bout you?”

He thought of his injuries, compared them to his previous, and found the present ones almost laughable. “I’ll live.”

A hum was her response, and Shiro felt her closing herself off to him. He needed to get her talking, not just to judge how she really was, but also to get them back to normalcy. To let her know that he wasn’t afraid of or upset with her about what happened at the lake without actually letting her know that that was what he was doing; it’d make her feel worse.

Shiro decided to voice his current worries. “Hey.”

Pidge cautiously slide her gaze to his, eyebrow raised in question.

“Does this place seem” - his fist tapped the wall twice - “weird to you?”

The heel of her boot mimicked his fist, the echo causing her forehead to scrunch up in concentration. She tilted her head to the side as if she was trying to recall the answer to a question she knew she should know, and then analyzed their surroundings and scratch at the ground.

Patiently, he waited for Pidge to answer. Felt a burst of pride when her eyes lit up and breathed, “This is a ship.”

He nodded, figuring that they were currently in the ship’s empty hangar. “Galra.” Then added, upon seeing the panic rising within her, “It’s long been abandoned, don’t worry.”

Green blanketed the interior, snaking up the walls and spreading across the ceiling and floor - no doubt, if they explored the ship, they’d find the same elsewhere. Abandoned and in ruin for some time, in deed; Pidge nodded, finding the evidence and Shiro’s explanation to correlate.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked. “Staying here, I mean.”

On a Galra ship, non-operational or otherwise, absolutely not. He was never comfortable bordering one. But his fears meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. As the leader of Voltron, Shiro had a duty and facing hardships was part of the job. The fate of the universe was vastly larger than his comfort, so he dealt with his anxieties by playing his part and ignoring the screaming of his subconscious to save himself, and only himself, and fought to protect all he could. Being a Paladin was probably the only thing keeping him going.

“Doesn’t matter,” Shiro shrugged, putting faith in his Lion.

Recalling the look in her eyes, he suppressed a shudder. It was identical to the expression the Green Lion had while charging them after he and Black had located Pidge - solid, glowing green eyes included. Whatever had possessed her was gone for now, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t frustratingly wary of her. There were still a few things he needed to hammer out before the tension lifted from his body about her, about this planet; he had questions and no solid answers. But he was going to do whatever he could to keep her from ending up like her Lion. End of story.

“So how ‘bout we make camp and clean ourselves up?”

~ ~ ~

Starting a fire was easy. Despite the lush color, the grass served as great kindling and nearly every fallen branch they found was dry, snapping effortlessly into the perfect size. Finding a water source came during their search for firewood, a small pool with a trickling poor excuse for a waterfall that lead into streams and underground rivers from the planet’s peaks to its depths.

Shiro immediately shoved his head under it.

Pidge quirked an eyebrow, seizing the opportunity that had presented itself. “Are you sure this water’s sanitary? It looks questionable to me.”

After scrubbing away the dried blood, he pulled back and wiped the excess water from his face. “Should be fine.” He thought about it. “Why?”

She schooled her features despite the pain radiating from her right arm, kicking a rock into the pool and further quoting, “What about piranhas?”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “There are no piranhas here, Pidge.”

Deadpan, she pointed at the bite marks on her body.

His expression mirrored hers as he began to stiffly remove his armor, mindful of his possibly fractured ribs; they decided that he was going to “shower” first while the extra clothes dried by the fire. “Those weren’t piranhas.”

Pidge shrugged with her left shoulder, turning her back to stand guard and to give him for some privacy. “But what about bacteria?”

She smirked when he sighed in exasperation.

However, she was no longer smirking when it was her turn to scrub what grime she could away. Only grit teeth and awkwardness - awkward angles, awkward hands, awkward questions. Just... _awkward._ Mostly because Pidge couldn’t get out of the remainder of her armor without help.

Which is where Shiro came in, offering assistance with the promise of seeing nothing, saying nothing, and backing off the tick she felt too uncomfortable with his presence. The gesture was appreciated, and it was refused.

And taken back the moment she tried to duck out of her chest plating and it grazed her worst injuries, arms frozen above her head and grumbling incoherently through grit teeth with tears prickling her eyes.

He eased it away, tossing the plate into the pile of his armor to be rinsed later, and she slumped against the boulder with him, angling herself to be within reach. The left gauntlet and glove were the only remaining armor on her arms, the rest long melted away or broken off; to the pile they went. Same with the belt, boots, calf, and thigh armor, leaving only her black undersuit.

There was hesitation and silence.

Shiro didn’t know if he should open the back of the suit, and Pidge wasn’t sure if she wanted him to; both not wanting to push the other. Desperately clinging to the remains of her dignity, she tried it for herself, getting the seams to separate at the collar and tugged on it, splitting the suit to above the center of her shoulderblades. It wasn’t enough for her to slip out of, which she had figured would happen, but she had to at least try.

Defeated, knowing that modesty was going to go out the window when the rinsing and treatment part came around anyway, Pidge turned her back to Shiro. Soon they would match - sort of. The top half of her suit would be rolled down to her hips like his, but she keep her mint green sports bra on, though the right strap had snapped in two from the acid.

It was a pity, really. She had liked this one; it had served her well. And it was expensive. Why did bras have to be so quiznak-

Pidge hissed as the material pulled at and around her raw flesh, muscles stiffening to keep herself in place. Nearly, she missed the noise Shiro made upon inspecting her back, her injuries. It was a mixed sound of surprise and pity that she had also made when she was handing him a large shirt to dry off with; there were so many scars of all sizes and depths across his back, chest, and arms that he had so desperately hid from the team.

Knowing and seeing are two vastly different beasts. She was thinking of ways to make even a hardened Galra soldier beg for mercy and giving them none when Shiro called her name, snapping her from the ideas of torture, and all she felt was empty. It was a struggle to breathe. And she was beginning to fear herself, because she wasn’t ashamed of these dark thoughts of revenge and, if given the chance, she could follow through with her fantasies.

Someone would pay dearly for what they had done to him.

“I’ll go get you a shirt,” said Shiro, his task complete and moving off of the boulder. “Call me if you need any help.”

Pidge watched him carefully stagger the semi-short distance back to the Galra ship’s hangar, stalling the inevitable and grateful for the illusion of privacy.

With a groan, she slipped to the ground, then steadily waded over to stand in front of the tiny waterfall. Scans showed that it was safe, oddly pure for an environment so wild. Mimicking Shiro, Pidge stuck her head under the falls, its temperature and pressure reminding her of a water hose on a summer’s day.

The sun beating down on her. The humidity making it harder to breathe as she ran. The grass and mud between her bare toes. Cool water dripping from her clothes and hair. Matt’s laughter and Gunther’s barking. The taste of lemonade and stickiness of fruity popsicles in the shade. The weight and texture of a fresh towel draped around her shoulders as she sprayed the grass off her legs.

Snapping her eyes open, Pidge shook off the pang of homesickness before it settled too deep.

Clear water ran a faint burgundy as she roughly ran her good hand through her hair, flinching whenever a splash hit her injuries. Scrubbing at the grime on her face, arms, chest, and part of her back and stomach, Pidge avoided inflicting pain on herself the best she could and wished for some soap. It didn’t take long before the only things left to semi-clean were her open wounds. As she breathed through her nose and crammed the sleeve of her suit between her teeth, the Green Paladin mentally rattled off a list of unpleasant things she’d rather do.

Lick the bottom of a Garrison trash can, sleep on a bed of needles, go to the gynecologist, give her weird neighbor’s demonic hellcat a bath, make Keith give her a haircut with his bayard - just to name a few.

Cursing and growling got her through rinsing her legs, lower back, and left arm. But nothing prepared her for the agony of her right arm that had her on her knees in an instant, jaw clamping down to stop her from screaming aloud and having to force air into her lungs. The coolness of the water registered in the back of her mind and she tried to focus on that.

That and breathing. And not passing out. Or vomiting.

Deeming she had rinsed thoroughly enough and far exceeded her pain limit, Pidge stiffly crawled back to the boulder, shuddering as cold water trailed and dripped off of her. She was wringing out her hair, feeling slightly less like a drowned sewer rat, when she spotted Shiro returning with two shirts in hand and using the sword form of his bayard as a walking stick. Allura would probably lecture him for using his bayard like that, then do the same to the rest of them to ensure they’d never follow their leader’s example, and vowed to never tell the Princess of the odd sight before her.

Shiro opted to politely overlook the redness and puffiness of her eyes, turning to lean against the same rock and handing her a gray shirt to dry off with. “These came in handy, huh?”

“Yeah.” Patting her stomach and chest, she teased while forcing a smile, “Can’t believe you had clothes stashed away in your Lion.”

He held a black shirt at arm’s length that was a size or two too large for him, eyeing it. “Coran’s doing, not mine.”

Pidge dabbed her arms, wincing as she did so, then moved on to running the shirt through her hair. It was going to be a bird’s nest later, and she found that she couldn’t care less. At least there wasn’t blood or guts in it now. Hopefully. “He believes himself to be a fashion expert.”

“Uh...huh,” he acknowledged slowly before trading shirts with Pidge.

Skeptically, she stared at the bed sheet Shiro had called a shirt. “This...is going to be a dress on me,” she decided, gaze switching between the clothing and him crouching to gather their armor into a transport bag. Bayard-turned-walking-stick or not, Pidge wished he’d stop walking on that ankle before he broke it for sure.

“It’s better than sitting in wet clothes.”

 _Or no clothes,_ she added, glancing at his scarred back. Carefully slipping the material over her head and snaking her arms through the long sleeves, Pidge was instantly torn between laughing and cringing as she smoothed it out.

It _was_ a dress on her: the hem reaching pass her knees, the excess sleeves hanging uselessly at her sides, and the collar so wide it slid completely off her shoulder. One costume change and suddenly she was a child wearing her father’s old t-shirt as a nightgown to bed again.

Shiro’s back to her, Pidge peeled off the bottom half of her underarmor and placed it next to her. Quiznak, it looked even more ridiculous without pants. “Don’t laugh.”

He turned. “Why would I-?”

Wide-eyed, Shiro blinked from one oddity to the next, the corner of his mouth slowly quirking upwards.

She placed her fists on her hips, warning, “Don’t.”

“I’m not -” He coughed into his fist, trying not to laugh. His brow then furrowed slightly in an attempt to control his amusement as he pulled himself to his feet. “Well,” he said, joining her with armor in tow, “we can alter it, but I can’t promise it’ll be pretty.”

“Do what you must,” she sighed, not seeing how it could get much worse.

With Pidge’s permission and without much effort, Shiro ripped both sleeves off and handed them to her. Then tore the material from underarm to ribs, cutting small stripes every few inches along the tear and tying the loose fabric together to tighten the shirt the best he could. However, Shiro didn’t know how to deal with the gaping collar, so he left it alone.

By no means was it pretty, as promised, but it was dry and warm and...breezy in areas that she wasn’t used to anymore. Lance probably would’ve done a better job, while snickering and teasing her; beggars can’t be choosers, though. She tied the sleeves to better fit her hips after the clothing adjustments, becoming less oversized-shirt like and more of a poorly designed dress.

Simultaneously feeling less awkward and more awkward about the situation, Pidge muttered her thanks and tried not to think about the pain she was about to face.

~ ~ ~

Pidge squinted, once again angling the bottle toward the firelight. “I can’t read this.”

The Paladins were tucked away in one of the many alcoves of the hangar, not too far or too close to the back or front in case they needed room to escape. The medical kit sat between the two, the contents mocking them instead of helping. They’ve never had the need to use it before, never had an injury so severe that waiting to reach the Castle of Lions was not acceptable.

“You’re studying Altean.”

Her gauntlet could have translated it for her, but it was damaged; his wasn’t programmed to do so, and she couldn’t remember the entirety of the code off the top of her head. Pidge added that to the growing list of tasks she had to do once she was back at the Castle of Lions: Program all Paladin armor with every upgrade she had put and will put into hers. If the situation ever arose, they would be prepared and fully capable of working the new features without backup.

“Yeah, and I can’t even say ‘Hello, my name is Pidge’ yet. I can name weird animals and recognize and speak a handful of words, but I can’t read sentences. What kind of messed up space Rosetta Stone is that, right? Also this print is so tiny. Do Alteans have crazy, enhanced senses as well as super-strength and chameleon-like abilities? ‘Cause that’s not fair, like, share the wealth, ya know, and -”

“Pidge.”

“Right. Yeah.” She shook the bottle, unknown pills rattling around. “I can’t tell you what to do with this.”

“We should ask Allura or Coran,” Shiro said, already calling the castleship, “but I think it’s pain medicine.”

“Hope it’s stronger than our particle barrier if it is.”

He blinked at her, slack-jawed.

She blinked back. “What?”

“I heard that.”

Startled, the Paladins turned to find Coran’s unamused face taking up the majority of the gauntlet’s screen, his mustache twitching and nostrils flaring. Shiro and Pidge glanced at each other, then back at Coran as he backed away to properly glare at a distance. A hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar type of apology formed on the tip of her tongue just as the rest of the crew came into view.

“Pidge, that’s an insult to pain medication everywhere,” said Keith, his comment nearly drowned out by Lance and Hunk’s laughter.

“Enough! Don’t... _dish_ my castleship.”

“It’s ‘diss,’ Allura,” wheezed Lance, hugging his ribs and leaning on Hunk to keep himself upright.

The Princess huffed, crossing her arms. _“Terrans.”_

Pidge wondered if they should just hang up and figure it out for themselves instead. The normalcy of their conversation was a welcomed distraction; however, it wasn’t enough to chase away the burning and tightness of her injuries. It was getting unbearable by the second. _“Guys.”_

That - the pain and desperation in her voice - was all it took for them to drop the act. It was surprising how drastic the atmosphere changed. There was no laughing, no joking. All attention was shifted to Pidge, concern creasing their foreheads.

Allura asked the question everyone was thinking. “Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine,” Shiro replied. “Just need you to walk us through this medical kit from my Lion.”

Coran guided the Paladins to the correct items to use, the others taking notes for future reference: Use this jar for cuts and burns, use this pill for poison, use this cream generously, don’t mix this, don’t forget that. Once Pidge set what they needed in front of them, in the order of usage, Coran suggested for them to take a pain pill each. They didn’t question it, not with the way his trained eyes studied their scans, especially Pidge’s, and let the pill dissolve on their tongues and ate a food-goo bar each like they were told.

Even in space, medicine tasted awful. Even in space, you had to chase it with food. Even in space, food could not mask the aftertaste of medicine. Even in space, Pidge could not hide her disgust.

According to Coran, two of Shiro’s ribs had a hairline fracture, his nose was broken, but his ankle was only twisted and bruised. Pidge’s injuries were exactly has bad as they looked. Both Paladins had concussions and, much to Pidge’s displeasure, were ordered not to sleep for at least one more varga.

A mixture of juniberry and sterilization filled the air as Shiro rubbed the cream across his ribs, it combining with the stench of sweat, dirt, and blood. Pidge busied herself with measuring out a few swatches of black material that was a cross between medical tape and gauze to be placed over the cream to secure the healing process. Coran hadn’t gone into the details of how it worked, and she didn’t ask, for once; curiosity was tiring.

A hiss escaped from Shiro’s lips when Pidge placed the foreign material on his skin; grit his teeth when she pressed on it a bit and wrap it around his torso per Coran’s instructions. That’s all the sound he would make, even while treating his cuts and purple ankle that Pidge honestly couldn’t believe wasn’t broken. Barely batted an eye when he popped his nose back in place, using a damp shirt sleeve to soak up the blood that poured out. Completely level-headed, another task checked off on his do-to list.

At her core, curiosity was one of Pidge’s greatest weapons. But she swore to herself that she would never learn just how much agony a person had to be put through in order for them to view it as normal.

~ ~ ~

“What do you call fake spaghetti?” came Lance’s voice.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at the gauntlet on the ground next to them. _“Don’t….”_

He grinned. “An im _-pasta.”_

Much like after every corny joke, groaning and eye-rolling insued. Hunk’s idea was to distract Pidge the best they could with stupid puns. So far, with the minor scrapes and burns, it was working.

So well in fact that Shiro had to physically turn Pidge’s head to face him for the second time. “Stay still,” he ordered, rubbing ointment into the cut on her lip and chin.

She let him turn her head this way and that to reach the scratches on her neck and collarbone. “What do sea monsters eat?” A crooked grin broke across her face, her eyes locked on his. “Fish and ships.”

Shiro paused, his face the picture of neutrality. His hand hovered over the bite mark on her left arm for a tick before he got back to his task; the staring contest ended when Pidge flinched.

“Okay, okay, okay, I got another one,” said Lance, ever the entertainer of the group. “What do you call someone who sells themselves in exchange for spaghetti?”

Before anyone couldn’t scold the Blue Paladin, Keith answered, “A pasta-tute. How many pasta jokes do you have?”

“Look man, I’m hungry and I want pasta. And I’m not talkin’ space pasta - no offence, Hunk.”

“None taken,” he shrugged.

“But I want _real_ pasta.”

“Outta all the foods on Earth,” asked Keith, “and you want _pasta?”_

“At the moment, yeah. Got a problem?”

The Red Paladin blinked. “Uh, um...no? I just kinda want pizza now.”

“Yeah, I could go for that, too. But it’s gotta have the right toppings, of course.” Lance listed off his fingers, “Cheese, pepperoni, pineapple -”

“Whoa, wait - _what?!_ Pineapple does _not_ belong on pizza.”

And thus a debate ensued.

Rolling her eyes, though she sided with Keith and judged Lance’s taste, Pidge carried on with the game while the two bickered. “What kind of music do mummies listen to?” She winced when Shiro pressed the medical material over the bite mark. “Wrap music.”

Hunk nodded. “Nice. Why did the cookie go to the doctor?”

“‘Cause he was feelin’ a little crummy,” answered Pidge, offering her left calf to Shiro. “Why shouldn’t you play cards on the savannah?”

“Because of all the cheetahs, duh. Why can’t you trust the king of the jungle?”

She smirked. “Because he’s always _lion_.” Hiking up the shirt-made-dress a bit so her right thigh could be reached, Pidge asked, “What do you call a pile of cats?”

“Voltron,” the Paladins collectively answered. Paused, staring at each other. And then laughed.

“A _meow-_ ntain,” she corrected before sharply sucking in air between her teeth.

Ointment-covered fingers pressed into a bloody wound on her calf, Shiro watched her breathe through the pain. He tapped her ankle with his free hand. “What do you call a group of disorganized cats?”

“Voltron?” she managed.

“Close,” he mused, replacing his fingers with a swatch of black material. “A cat-astrophe.”

Her muscles relaxed a touch. “So it is Voltron.”

Aside from a raised eyebrow, the gesture telling her to behave, the comment was allowed to slide. Even Allura and Coran let it go. Pidge figured she must have been in terrible shape for them to allow that. “Why do programmers hate nature?” he asked, repeating the same method on Pidge’s right thigh. “Too many bugs.”

Despite the pain, she laughed. It sounding more like an escaped force of air that had been trapped in her throat. But it was a laugh. A grimace and tightening of muscles followed, pain sparking within her skull. Pidge questioned through grit teeth, “Where does an astronaut go for a drink?” She took a tick to breathe and swallow thickly. “The space bar.”

Shiro hummed. “You know,” he said, bandaging her leg as she slummed, “I’d tell you a joke about amnesia, but I forgot how it goes.”

Pidge blinked before choking out, “Ha - haha! Wow, please tell me someone else heard that.”

“Space Dad’s got jokes,” Lance stage whispered to the others, who were gaping in awe.

Shiro grabbed the gauntlet so they could only see him while Pidge turned away to expose her back, giving her a minute moment of privacy. “Look, I was on a small ship with Pidge’s dad and brother for _three months,_ ” she heard him say. “I had to survive that somehow.”

The shirt’s gaping neck was a hidden blessing. With some stiff movements, she managed to slip through it and let the clothing rest around her stomach. Pidge steeled herself, clenching the material in her lap.

Her back would be no worse than her legs, pain-wise. It was her right arm, numb from and with pain, that had her hesitating. If the so-called rinsing at the pathetic waterfall was any preview, Pidge’s strength was sapped - no amount of distracting or “digging deep” would help her when she was already hallow. All she could give was this:

She would not force Shiro to restrain her. She would stay still, for him. She would endure it, for him. She would not make this any harder than it already was, for him and for the team. She would not make them witness that along with the screams that will creep into their nightmares.

~ ~ ~

Shiro placed his helmet on his head, deciding that an extra set of eyes and another angle for Coran to have was best. Three layers, Coran had said earlier. Three layers of healing ointment needed to be applied instead of one and wrap Pidge’s arm twice because of the extensive damage. Though the process was simple, it made the Black Paladin less tense knowing that the knowledgeable Altean was watching closely.

Dread filled his gut anyway.

“Alright, you two,” came Coran’s voice, his tone serious, “breath deep for me, nice and slow.” As they followed his order in tantum, he explained, “We’re going to do this quick, and we’re going to do it right. I won’t sugarcoat it: This will hurt, Pidge, but it has to be done. Same goes for you, Shiro. Are you ready?”

Pidge gave a thumbs-up before gagging herself with a cutoff shirt sleeve.

More than before, Shiro felt the eyes of their friends burning into him from the holographic screen as he nodded. He dipped his fingers into the salve, spread it thickly across his palm, and rubbed his hands together until he felt it was evenly coated before turning to Pidge. She met his eye with a stern nod, and he prayed that the drug was working, even just a fraction.

“Start with her shoulder and work your way to her fingertips,” advised Coran. “Don’t stop. Keep the pressure light and even as possible. And breathe. Remember to breathe.”

The Paladins took a final, calming breath.

Closing her eyes, Pidge hugged her knees against her chest and held her arm out. Her entire body stiffen when he placed his hand on her shoulder, steadily gliding across and then down. She buried her face into her knees, groaning and crying, when he cupped her bicep and continued to her fingernails.

Shiro noted that she was shaking and breathing heavily around the cloth as he scoped the second layer of ointment into his palms. “You’re doing great, Pidge,” he told her before continuing.

He wasn’t sure if she heard him or the team voice their praise as she screamed and bit into the gag. Despite her muffled screams and sobbing, Shiro forced himself to follow Coran’s order: Light and even pressure, don’t stop, breathe. The words circling in his head, he focused only on his hands and her arm. Not the worried expressions of their friends. Not the tears and snot streaming down Pidge’s face, or the way she clawed at the ground. If his focus wandered, he didn’t think he could finish this cruel act of kindness.

“Last one, okay?” Shiro promised.

The third time around, Pidge’s back arched as a strangled grunt escaped her throat. Coran had to step in. “Breathe, Number Five,” he said calmly yet forcefully. A shaky breath followed by a dampen scream was her compliance. “That’s a girl,” the Altean praised, watching her slowly curl in on herself. “C’mon then, breathe. It’s almost over.”

Finished, Shiro quickly wiped his hands on the semi-clean side of the shirt he used to stop his nosebleed earlier. Now he had to wrap Pidge’s arm. Twice, he reminded himself as he measured and ripped enough strips.

It was an odd balance of pressure when placing the black material. More pressure for the uninjured skin near her spine and collarbone, less for the injured shoulder; four strips in total were laid. Then he spiralled it from bicep to wrist before tearing it and wrapping Pidge’s hand as if she was about to enter a boxing match. Shiro repeated the process, per Coran’s suggestion, in awe of how still Pidge stayed through it all. The screaming had been somewhat replaced with sobbing and she shook with exhaustion and residual pain, but she was a rock.

And he was grateful because, by the end of it, Shiro was certain of one thing: Her screams alone would be the featured soundtrack of his nightmares for nights to come.

“Thanks, Coran.” The Black Paladin realized that he didn’t hear an echo and turned to his deactivated gauntlet. Briefly, he wondered when and who turned it off as he gathered the medical supplies back into the kit.

“You did well, Shiro,” he commented, his voice coming from the helmet’s comm. “Pidge, too.”

He glanced at Pidge, already halfway dressed again and gagless. “Can she sleep?” She had been through so much today - had it only been _one_ day? She deserved to rest. He couldn’t torture her like this, too. “I know you said to wait a varga, but….”

Coran sighed. “It was a cautious suggestion, really. I understand where you’re coming from, but at least try to keep her awake for a bit longer. And make sure to check for a fever throughout the night. Contact the castle if there is, or if any problems come up. We’ll be standing guard.”

“Who’s taking first watch?”

“I am,” answered Keith and Lance.

“We all are,” corrected Hunk. “Mice and Lions included, of course. If you’re not sleeping, neither are we.”

“Thanks, guys,” said Shiro. It was nice knowing that the team was there for him and Pidge. “I’ll be careful and check-in every varga.”

The connection ended.

Shiro readjusted himself to be more comfortable. Made sure his ankle was elevated on the medical kit. Shoved the backpack behind his lower back so he could lean against the hangar’s wall somewhat comfortably. Had a shirt that wasn’t too dirty that would serve as a small blanket.

“Pidge?” He held his arms open.

That was all the invitation she needed. Pidge collapsed against his chest, legs thrown over his left thigh and uninjured arm clenching at the back of his undersuit. Silent tears from the pain that was bleeding from her body gradually turned to more sobbing. He repeatedly ran his metal fingers through her hair, hoping it was soothing.

The longer it went on, the more Shiro knew it wasn’t pain related. This was something much greater, something he and the rest of Team Voltron understood all too well. This was all of her bottled frustrations. This was her doubts and fears surfacing.

This was the weight of being the only salvation of the universe.

Covering her legs with the shirt and resting his cheek against her hair, he admitted something to himself that he’d known all along:

She was just a kid.

They were all just kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, in the next chapter, y'all will know what the quiznak is going on with Pidge and the Green Lion.  
> \--------  
> *probably at some point between chapter 3 & 4*  
> Pidge: Shiro, why didn't you just - I dunno - break your cruiser's glass to get out?  
> Shiro: ...  
> Pidge: ...  
> Shiro: Pidge, there's a reason you pilot the Green Lion and not me.  
> \--------  
> (Apparently, my common sense disappeared like Shiro in the season 2 finale 'cause I wanted to be dramatic???? I'M SORRY, SHIRO. YOU'RE TOTALLY SMARTED THAN THAT.)


	5. Flower Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nice flower crown, by the way. Where’d you get ‘em?”  
> Gingerly touching a lilac petal, she stared ahead at nothing, the warmth around her dimming. “I’ve had a thought.”  
> That...wasn’t the response he had expected. But now he was curious. “Only one?” he mused.  
> “No,” she answered slowly. “More like...a whole train station of trains of thoughts. Or should I say -?” Pidge huffed. Scratched the back of her head. Began again with, “You know how you have, like, a hundred and forty-seven tabs open when you’re doing a research paper? How each tab is about something similar, yet different, but most have a part in completing the paper? Or at least help you understand the topic better? That’s where my brain is at. I think...I understand what’s going on now.”  
> Shiro shifted closer. “Okay,” he encouraged, “I’m listening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Shows up really fucking late with a fic update again* I'M SORRY. I SWEAR, I WILL FINISH THIS FIC. ADULTING IS KILLING ME *tosses it and runs*  
> Okay, okay, here's the chapter everything's been basically building up for (NO FUCKING PRESSURE, RIGHT? IS IT HOT IN HERE? DAMN.), so hopefully, I've explained it well (or at least well-ish?) and y'all find it to be acceptable. And if the beginning of this sounds weird, its 'cause I had the DAMN FLU when I wrote it and just...left it, so yeah...that happened. Also, I think I'm done hurting Pidge, yay!  
> Again, though I say this every chapter, THANK YOU GUYS SO, SO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS AND HITS AND COMMENTS. THEY MAKE ME HAPPY AND MOTIVATE ME TO WRITE MORE.

She slept in fits.

Chapped lips grazed her forehead. Metal brushed through her hair; flesh pressed against her inner wrist, her throat. A damp cloth draped over her eyes.

“Pidge.”

Low voices, a steady heartbeat. Drink this, eat that.

“Pidge.”

Shivering and sweating. Something wedged between her teeth. Take this, drink more.

“Pidge.”

Praise, concern. Questions with slurred answers, immediately forgotten.

“Pidge.”

It’s going to be okay. There’s pleasant pressure on her forehead and fingers combing her hair again; hushed conversations and a calming pulse.

“Pidge.”

There’s faint rumbling in the crevasse of her mind.

_“Pidge.”_

And there’s fingers wrapped around her neck. Tightening, strangling.

_“Pidge!”_

Panic and pain and the demand of oxygen drowning her being.

_Katie…._

She bolted to consciousness, coughing and clawing at phantom hands crushing her throat. _A dream,_ Pidge acknowledged while gulping air, the terror lingering, _just a dream._ The Black Lion ensured safety. She had Shiro, too. Nothing could hurt her, not with them around. Her faith in them warded off any fears; she was safe. Tension draining, she rationalized with finality, _It was a nightmare and nothing more._

A nightmare that partly vanished from her memory, as one does, whenever she was close to recalling details. Growling, choking, her given name being whispered in a voice she couldn’t place was all that stuck with her. Ice spread throughout her veins as she rubbed her sore neck.

Movement out of the corner of her eye had her scrambling back, a scream lodged in her aching throat, ignoring her trembling limbs and pain flaring within them. Starlight reflecting off arm-shaped metal had her pausing, eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness.

“It’s just me,” Shiro placated, hands raised in surrender. “Are you okay?”

Right.

It was Shiro.

It was only Shiro.

He was so quiet she’d forgotten she’d fallen asleep on him. “Yeah,” Pidge croaked with relief, cradling her right arm to her chest.

A certain amount of pain was grounding, in an odd way; it could bring you back to yourself, physical pain did not bleed into dreams. Yet, the ache and hoarseness of her throat was as real as the throbbing in her limbs and she had pieces missing of her.

Shaky fingertips grazed the tender skin, adding, “For the most part.”

“I’m going to activate my arm. Is that alright?”

He really was treating her like an injured animal, like a child mid-tantrum. Frustration welled within her. She was stronger than this, better than this. She was a Paladin same as him and yet -

Pidge wiped at the wetness on her cheeks before nodding.

Purple washed over them, creating sharp shadows and eerie luminance. Concern creased his brow, a look given to her far too often as of late, but the effect was the same: Her glare softened.

“Don’t patronize me,” she grumbling, her words losing their intended bite. She was going to be fine after some rest, didn’t he understand that?

His eyes shifted downward all the same. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to. I’m just….”

“Worried?” Pidge guessed. Of course. He was a walking tension ball of anxiety, here especially, too well hidden behind friendly smiles and heroics. Quiznak, she was not good at this.

She scooted closer. “I’m...fine, Shiro. I know it’s hard, but try not to worry so much, okay? I’m not going to break _that_ easily. You said so yourself,” tilting her head to catch his eye, “right?”

He glanced at her, from disheveled hair to black bandages to bare toes; his shoulders slumped. “Not my exact words, but you’re right.”

There were times, she knew, when he couldn’t look at her. Times when his forced smile would make her heart ache. She knew during those times he wasn’t looking at _her,_ but at Matt, at her father, at Katie and her mother, the people he couldn’t protect and keep his promises to. Her presence was a constant reminder of his failures. A reminder of how _just_ imperfect he was, how he could never live up to the legend the Garrison created.

Yet...when she looked at him, she could only see hope.

Pidge was stronger with him, stronger with the team. Sure, the odds of victory were slim, but she couldn’t dream of better people to fight alongside with, or fight with. With him as her leader, her friend, her hope, she was indestructible. With the team at her side, them seamlessly filling what she lacked, she was untouchable. She was as infinite and brilliant as the cosmos.

Everything was going to be fine. They were phoenixes. She just had to remind herself of that from time to time.

Unfortunately, Pidge didn’t know how or where to begin explaining that simplicity. Or without completely embarrassing herself. “I usually am,” she weakly boasted instead, gently settling her back against his abdomen.

Patchwork ragdoll legs stretched before her and arms crossed over her middle, Pidge studied the way his legs barricaded her in. The way his deactivated arm rested on his knee, starlight glinting off the tech. The way his muscles didn’t relax, though the Black Lion had her eyes on them. Lazily, she moved on to mentally reorganizing hers and Shiro’s differences and similarities, from bodies to fighting styles, advantages and disadvantages for no reason other than to quietly pass the time.

Sleep gradually tugged at her, the rise and fall of Shiro’s diaphragm and the sounds of his soft breathing a lullaby, the data swirling in her head a bedtime story. The dream was a wisp of smoke as her breathing grew deeper, slower. There were worst nightmares - Shiro, of all people, understood that - but that didn’t mean hers were any less terrifying. He couldn’t stop them, but his presence calmed the anxious storm raging in her head and chest. And that was enough.

Her eyes fluttering shut, she asked, “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s better.” His fingers were absentmindedly playing with her hair again. “How’s your arm?”

“I can...build one like yours,” she mumbled, “but green.”

Sleep overtook her.

~ ~ ~

Shiro froze, Pidge’s implication suckerpunching the air from his lungs.

No.

 _No,_ he would not allow her to end up like him. He’d failed her too many times. But this time - _this one time_ \- he would not. She will keep all her body parts, her Lion. He’d make sure of it.

Beside, she was probably delirious with pain and lack of adequate food, water, and sleep. Maybe she was joking, or thinking about how to fix his arm - _something._ If Pidge was truly that bad off, Coran would have mentioned it to him. The injuries were extensive, but not so much so as to result in amputation. Scarring was probably a given, but not…that, no.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no - stop thinking about that. No! Get a grip._

Thickly swallowing, Shiro studied his right arm, flexing his fingers that hadn’t felt aligned since emerging from the lake. He’d have to have Pidge and Hunk fix it once they reached the castleship, after putting her in a cryopod. And giving her food and water, a real shower, fresh clothes that actually fit her, and forcing her to sleep in a bed. His hand could wait.

He deserved to wait after what he saw:

Pidge falling to her death from a cliff, helplessly watching the earth below giving way to vegetation swarming skyward to catch her. Him rushing to her motionless body and hack at the element that fiercely clung to her all the while thinking she was dead. Only after having eyes that weren’t hers greeting him, vanishing in an instant, and her recognizing him did he calm down. Slightly.

But those eyes - those glowing green eyes - would come back at random. The earth would bend to her during those moments, he noticed. Aweing and terrifying, just like Pidge when she started to think, discover, and use technology and her surroundings to her advantage.

That thought lead to another: The Green Lion. That maybe Paladin and Lion were still connected somehow and influencing each other. It could be possible, right? They didn’t know everything about the Lions, or their abilities, or Voltron, or the bonds forged between them. Maybe this planet was heightening their bond, maybe destroying it.

He didn’t know. There was so much he didn’t know.

If only he had denied her permission to explore an unknown world. If only he had questioned the planet’s anomalies that made Pidge so curious. If only he had someone go with her, or if he had arrived faster. If only he had been better. If only he knew what he was dealing with. If only he had done _something_ different then none of this would have happened.  

 _If only we understood the Lions better,_ he thought, eyes catching a faint green glow.

At first, he thought it was fireflies or something similar. But it was wrong. It didn’t move or blink like the insects he was familiar with, and it originated underneath and around Pidge. The light wafted up and up and grew bolder and brighter, the surrounding vegetation flourishing and wildlife silencing, until the hangar was cast in green serenity.

Beautiful as it was, Pidge’s pulse and breathing were erratic, it soaring higher and faster until the soft light suddenly dispersed, her vitals bottoming out with it. Swallowed in pitch black once more, Shiro did not dare to even breathe before her vitals levelled out to relative normalcy. Once it did, he decided that, no matter what happened, they were getting off this planet before sundown, Green Lion or not; Pidge could not stay here another night.

A Lion roared in the distance, long and wailing, setting him on edge further.

Shiro’s chest tightened, spine tingled, over the cry as he pushed back the damp bangs clinging to Pidge’s forehead. A cosmic machine, sentient or otherwise, should not sound so heartbroken. “Green,” he sighed, resigning to the long night ahead, “what are you doing to your Paladin?”

~ ~ ~

Sunlight coaxed life back into the planet’s flora and inhabitants, including, oddly enough, Pidge.

Her body was lighter, breathing easier, her mind sharper after the fogginess of the night. Still exhausted, but the pain and stiffness were bearable. “Less stabby, more achy,” she reassured Shiro, somehow, with a straight face and he, miraculously, believed her.

Believed her enough to follow her _strong suggestion_ of taking a nap after thanking and scolding him for standing guard all night without a break; it was her turn.

So there Pidge sat, at the edge of their alcove with Shiro’s gauntlet and a half-eaten food goo packet between her teeth, studying their previous and recent body scans. The medical kit was impressive. Shiro was healing nicely - might not even need a healing pod if this continued. She, on the other hand, hardly made any progress at all in comparison, especially her shoulder.

Frowning and setting down her food, she glanced at the Black Paladin next to her, his back pressed along the wall and head propped on the backpack. How rare it was to see him sleeping, so vulnerable. Later, after he wakes up, they would have to come up with a plan to deal with Green and leave. They couldn’t stay here, not like this. Rations were too slowly dwindling; Shiro’s obvious lies of how he’d already had some water or wasn’t hungry suddenly made sense.

As if she wasn’t keeping a tally of their supplies. Or how much each of them had. She’d pour water and food down his throat if she had to. She couldn’t handle someone as large as him being dehydrated or lethargic.

Pidge reached for her goo, refusing to allow Shiro to suffer for her sake, only to have her hand meet thick vegetation. Confused, she looked up in time to see a fuzzy tail scampering off with her meal, the packet equal to its size.

 _What the -? “Hey!”_ she quietly grumbled, scrabbling to her feet.

Before she could clear the alcove, Shiro jolted awake. “Pidge.”

She paused, noting as she faced him that he was too alert for someone who was just sleeping. Eyes too wide, body too tense, not a trace of vulnerability left. A “light sleeper” did not cover what he was.

He took a breath. Came back to himself as he slowly released it. “What’re you doing?”

_Deciding that shooting Zarkon and Haggar into a blackhole or a star going supernova is a too peaceful of a death._

She shook herself mentally. Now wasn’t the time for that.

Brilliantly, she did not explain that she had to chase an alien rodent that stole her food. But instead glanced between him and the general direction the goo ran off to - should she really separate them over a _half-eaten food packet?_ “I, ah...um. Ya see-”

“Oh,” as if he understood her non-explanation. “Uh, just - just don’t wander off too far.”

Pidge blinked. He did _not_ understand her non-explanation, but she’d take it.

~ ~ ~

Innocent, curious eyes blinked down at the Green Paladin, seemingly unconcerned about being driven into a tree. Or the alternating sugary and prickly words from the human. It merely twitched its tail or nose at the display of jumping and flailing limbs below. Fear, danger, or caution never crossed the animal’s mind.

No. The rodent’s concern was the food and how to get to it. The packaging wasn’t difficult, it discovered, to chew or claw through. Greedily, it scooped up pawfuls of goo and ate and ate and ate, squeaking with contentment.

Until the packing slipped from the flimsy branch it was balanced upon and landed on Pidge’s head.

Pidge stilled, distantly accepting the new development, and allowed the packet to finish its descent to the ground, it oozing from her hair to her face to finally spatting into the dry grass at her feet. This was, in all honesty, the least disgusting thing to land on her since crashing. “Well,” she sighed, flicking the food off her brow and fingers. “There goes my breakfast.”

However, she had a more difficult time accepting the rodent, a cross between a flying squirrel and a chinchilla, pouncing from the tree and scrambling into her hair in the quest for more food. Squawking and tugging came from both parties until Pidge resigned herself to the situation, plopping into the grass with a defeated groan and a fuzzball eating green goo from her hair.

As long as it wasn’t trying to harm her, she didn’t care what it did at this point.

Doboshes passed before she settled on a name. Because - why not? If you feed it, you get to name it, like picking up a stray cat. “Nova,” Pidge named, resting her chin on her palm. “Yeah, I like that. Do you like that name, Nova?”

Squeaking and tail twitching answered her; smiling, she took that as a yes.

Ramblings poured from Pidge’s lips. It was easy. Cathartic.

Nova was an excellent listener, would squeak at what could be seen as appropriate times of encouragement, no judgements or interruptions. Unless you considered other small creatures gathering around Pidge as an interruption. Which it wasn’t. She cooed at them, feed them, named them - Apollo, Solis, Alpha - and coddled the ones that didn’t lose interest in her presence immediately, apologized for invading their home and said that they were the best part of this nightmare.

With her new audience, Pidge continued talking about what she’d been through on their planet. About her team, bragging and dragging them with her version of affection. About her Lion and Voltron. Her place among them and some of what she’d seen and discovered in the short time she’d been in space. She talked about Earth, her home and family, and circled back to the team and how they were also her family now. How she cared for them, how she was proud of them - and how she was not the best at expressing that.

How she should probably get back to Shiro. She’d stayed close by, keeping the mouth of the hangar in sight at all times, but being separated for too long didn't sit well with her anxiety. It was time to head back.

Right after she rinsed the sticky residue of her breakfast from her hair.

Pidge stood, smiling as her entourage followed behind and underfoot, and carefully made her way to the trickling water hose of a waterfall nearby. Grass thickened around her ankles, steadily stretching to her calves; flower buds bloomed, bright pedals facing their energy source. There was peace, safe and warm peace as cool water washed away what little food Nova couldn’t eat.

It ended with her reflection.

Excuses formed as she hesitantly crouched: Sunlight filtered through the leaves and her tired eyes saw it as something different, light reflection, a bird or large insect had flown overhead, maybe a small fish or another aquatic creature swam by.

She checked her surroundings, above and below. She checked angles, the anomaly...following. Her heart pounded as excuses were disproven, one after the other.

Pidge pulled herself back onto land, finally - truly - looking at the scene in front of her: Rich  grass, radiant flowers, a bubbled sense of tranquility and rebirth. A stark contrast to yesterday. She eyed the waterfall, wondering if it was flowing faster, before stepping around her new friends and kneeling on an embankment. Staring at the water’s reflection, Pidge carefully touched her face, pushed back her bangs. Purposefully turned her head this way and that. Had a hand skim the still surface before it clicked.

There were no more excuses. There was no more hiding. There was only the truth:

The anomaly was her.

Reeling backwards, lungs clenching and heart jackhammering within her ribcage, the glowing eyes of the Green Lion bore into Pidge’s brain, creating a headache she had become too familiar with. Her vision narrowed, sound dulled, as she pressed her forehead into her knees and cold, heavy palms against her sternum.

Internal pain, external numbness. Panic, confusion. The world tilting and swirling. All too intense and too much and too overwhelming and -

Weight plopped onto her head, a sudden sting to her left ear.

Pidge slowly lifted her head to see Apollo, a large oyster-colored, currently-upside-down bird that was nose-to-beak with her, cocking his head to the side. A smudge of crimson on the tip of his sharp pink beak had her reaching for the likely source. Blood smeared between her fingers, she gaped and hesitated in calling him a steroid cockatoo; the numbness was fading.

Slowly, ever so slowly.

The awareness of Apollo’s talons in her hair, prickling her scalp, the sensation of his feline-like feather tail wrapping around her shoulders. Solis, a little brightly spotted lizard with horns and a curled tail, sunning himself on her ankle. The brush and warmth of Alpha’s fur against her lower back, her bushy tail and large ears twitching while dreaming. Nova scratching at the shirt-dress bunched around Pidge’s stomach in hopes of a temporary nest for a nap.

They -

They weren’t afraid of her?

Animals either run and hide or fight at the first sign of danger - instincts drives them, fundamentally. So if they weren’t afraid...why should she be? People say to watch animals, watch their reactions to others and the environment. They knew more, didn’t have pride stopping them from admitting something was _off._

With a jittery hand, Pidge gently scratched the bird’s head, which he leaned into and pouted when it was over. She scratched and patted the others in turn, and managed to gather her voice enough to praise, “Good boys, good girls. You are all so good - _so good_.”

~ ~ ~

Shiro wasn’t sure what woke him, not that he ever knew or wanted to, but everything was exactly how he had left it. Jerking himself to his feet, eyes half-closed against the sunlight, maybe _that_ was the reason: Pidge was missing. He recalled her leaving, but never returning, and he kicked himself for dropping his guard.

The stench of bloodlust and phantoms of tortured screams, weapons clashing, and blood dripping loomed as he marched to the center of the hangar. Ignoring the stiffness of his ankle, he scanned every alcove as he strode toward the exit, icy tendrils clawing at his back in hopes of dragging him into the ship’s depths. Voices whispered of his powerlessness, of his worthlessness, as he walked faster, breaths becoming labored and borderline frantic. His right arm was aching and unforgivingly heavy, the tech suddenly foreign and grotesque and -

“Shiro?”

His head whipped toward the familiar voice. And nearly collapsed with relief because there sat Pidge, looking like a daydream in the wake of his nightmare, at the hangar’s mouth in the far corner. Her legs dangled over the edge, toes brushing the weeds below, with purple and white flowers crowning her hair and animals at her sides. He gaped at the sight, not sure what to make of it.

In the time it took for him to land on what Pidge resembled - a Disney princess, a fairy or some other mythical being - and discard the idea of speaking his thoughts in fear of angering or embarrassing her or him being an idiot, she had cautiously approached him, sat him down were she was, and retrieved pouches of food and water.

“I’m alright, Pidge,” he said after taking a few sips of water. She’d been watching him for a couple of dobashes - out of the corner of her eye mostly, but watching nonetheless. And he wasn’t lying, this time; he had collected himself and he was fine. “I mean it.”

She studied him, eyes too sharp and unwavering, too bright and golden in the light. “Eat,” she ordered, not entirely convinced by that statement.

Taking the pouch she offered, muttering a “Yes, ma’am,” and doing as she said, Shiro corrected himself. Pidge resembled a lioness more than anything.

A lioness with a giant cockatoo on her left shoulder, a bored lizard on her calf, a satellite-eared coyote nuzzled against her hip, and a fat squirrel on her knee that he was pretty sure was drooling as it stared at his food. He held his food a little closer, wishing it would stop.

“Nova,” Pidge warned. “No.”

Shiro arched an eyebrow. “Nova?”

She nodded, as if it was perfectly natural to befriend random creatures on the planet you crashed landed into. Pointing in turn, she introduced, “This is Nova, and this is Alpha, Solis, and Apollo.”

For someone who had a difficult time making friends with _people,_ she sure did had an odd ability to easily befriend the strangest things wherever they went - namely, robots and animals. He stifled a smile behind his hand, pretending to only be scratching his nose. She _would_ do that, _and_ name them that.

Pidge cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“Nuffin,” he answered around the goo in his mouth. Swallowing, he complimented, “Nice flower crown, by the way. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Gingerly touching a lilac petal, she stared ahead at nothing, the warmth around her dimming. “I’ve had a thought.”

That...wasn’t the response he had expected. But now he was curious. “Only one?” he mused.

“No,” she answered slowly. “More like...a whole train station of trains of thoughts. Or should I say -?” Pidge huffed. Scratched the back of her head. Began again with, “You know how you have, like, a hundred and forty-seven tabs open when you’re doing a research paper? How each tab is about something similar, yet different, but most have a part in completing the paper? Or at least help you understand the topic better? That’s where my brain is at. I think...I understand what’s going on now.”

Shiro shifted closer. “Okay,” he encouraged, “I’m listening.”

She stroked Alpha’s copper fur before admitting, “I was wrong. As much as it pains me to say, I was wrong. It’s not a virus, obviously - you and the Black Lion are fine. It’s...quintessence.”

He had figured it wasn’t a virus, but quintessence? “What makes you say that?”

“Maybe not quintessence exactly,” she reasoned.

Pidge slid off the hangar’s edge, causing Nova to jump to Shiro’s legs and Alpha to skirt to his side as well. Solis simply wrapped his tail around her ankle while Apollo stabilized himself by flapping his wings. She paced as she explained her thoughts.

“This is all speculation, of course. I don’t have any real evidence for this, but -” She paused to look at Shiro. “Remember the Balmera?”

“Of course.”

“And how Allura used her life force - her quintessence - to heal it? How beautiful it was afterward, and how many crystals it created?”

“Yes,” he agreed slowly.

Pidge strode over to a small tree a few yards away, grabbed hold, and uprooted it with one pull. Dust and dirt clung to dry spiderweb roots as she held the entire tree in front of her, and squeezed. Bark shattered within her grasp, the trunk falling to the ground in two; the roots to her left, the head to her right. All with ease.

Slack-jawed, Shiro fiddled with the tree bark she had handed to him. It turned to splinters between his fingers.

“Look around, Shiro. Just like Shay’s Balmera, this place is dying, and the only way to heal it -”

“- Is with quintessence,” he finished, wide-eyed. It was then, he noticed, the random patches of life to his left - the flowers, the full trees, the rich grass and weeds and moss - compared to the brittle and dull vegetation to his right; a large scale science project on what the presence and lack of light and water did to plants. “So you’re saying that this a fossilize creature, not a planet?”

Pidge nodded, satisfied that he was keeping up with her. “And I’ve been hearing - okay, more like _feeling_ a heartbeat, too, but only when I focus. Thought it was our Lions at first, but it was too... _rhythmic_ and subtle to be them. So, yes, a fossilized creature like a Balmera, but the opposite of one.” She snapped her fingers. “An _anti_ -Balmera - quiznak, Lance is rubbing off -”

“Pidge.”

“Right, thank you.” Pidge paused to center herself. “But that’s where it gets tricky. Balmeras give and give until they die, relying on the kindness of its inhabitants and visitors to sustain its life force. It’s peaceful.” She scratched at the feathers on Apollo’s chest, beginning her pacing again. Vines and flowers bloomed in her wake. “Now compare that to here. How many times have we’ve nearly died or been injured?” Scowling, she held up a hand. “Don’t answer that.”

“The anti-Balmera,” she sighed, making a face at the ridiculous name, “on the other hand, hasn’t given anything, as far as I can tell; it only takes.” Nodding her head to the left of the ship, Pidge asked, “Know why this area looks healthier? Because I’ve been giving it my quintessence.”

Recollections of Allura bedridden for days sprung to the forefront of Shiro’s mind. Though she had saved the Balmerians, healing their home came with a heavy price. A price Pidge could not pay at the moment. “Whoa, Pidge, you -”

Her gaze snapped to his, and he froze, pinned under the green glow of her eyes. Absentmindedly, he stroked Alpha and Nova’s fur, telling himself that she was still Pidge and the creature beneath their feet was affecting her. He shouldn’t be afraid of a ship. He shouldn’t be afraid of glowing eyes. Just because both were in front of him, that didn’t mean he should be afraid of Pidge.

“It was for science, Shiro.” Averting her eyes, Pidge worked the unintended bite from her tone. “I had to know. I had to experiment. Look, I’m not Princess Allura; I can’t heal entire planets.” Slowly, she approached the hangar’s mouth. “But I _can_ stop this. This - this creature is stealing the life from me and Green. Remember just before she charged us, after you and the Black Lion came? The grass and how it changed so drastically? That was _her_ quintessence. She’s fighting and suffering, I can feel it. Don’t you see? I _have_ to know how and why in order to help her, to help us.”

Shiro waited until she had climbed back onto the edge, his mind still reeling. What he would give to have Hunk here to help her ping ideas off of. “Okay,” he began gently. If this was her conclusion, then he believed and supported her. “Have any ideas as to why the Black Lion and I are unaffected?”  

“I do, actually,” Pidge said, kicking her feet and watching the weeds grow larger beneath them. Judging by the snarl forming, he pieced together, with her experiments (hopefully) over, that she didn’t have control over when the creature absorbed her energy. “As we know firsthand, Paladin and Lion are connected, individually, but also collectively through Voltron. The Lions chose us based on our quintessence and our strongest traits - leadership, loyalty, adaptability, instincts, and intelligence.”

She paused to whisper to the animals clinging to her, “Could be based on the color of our shirts like Lance thinks, who knows.” Clearing her throat, she continued. “Point is: Because you’re unaffected, I think its draining specific quintessence, the one that the Green Lion and I share, and the whole ‘Guardian of the Forest’ thing and being semi-stranded on a primarily forest-based creature. _Or_ it could be because the Black Lion is protecting you. The Lions are smarter than we give them credit; she’s staying in her element to be safe.”

Shiro opened his mouth to ask what she meant when it hit him: Pidge was right. The Black Lion _had_ been staying in their element. Only twice did she leave it, and both were to protect him.

Pidge fiddled with the hem of her shirt-dress, having given up on glaring at the weeds to stop growing. “Allura had said that the Lions take our quintessence to pilot them, that that’s the foundation of our bonds with them, and the Lion that requires the most is the Black Lion. Maybe she’s absorbing as much as you’re putting out - she has this - this hold on you, to the point where nothing else can touch your shared quintessence.”

The way she said that last part had him raising an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I have more than one.”

“That’s because you do. We all do,” she said, nonchalantly, accepting the water he passed to her. “Quintessence is the essence of a thing in its purest and most concentrated form; it’s raw energy. Perfect examples of that are the Lions, which is why they’re so powerful and how Voltron is even more so. Throughout time, that quintessence has changed forms countless times, but it’s managed to spread across the universe to us. Now we have it, too, in a diluted form, but it’s there - the same cosmic dust as the Lions themselves. And I believe that’s why Paladins can switch Lions under certain conditions.”

Pidge shifted to face him, beaming with excitement. “You see, people are complicated, and we only see fractions of what’s really there. We’ve pigeonholed ourselves into believing we’re only one or two things. But we’re not. Keith’s not _just_ the hotheaded loner; Lance isn’t _just_ the average goofball; Hunk isn’t only nice guy that’s obsessed with food; I’m not just the antisocial brain; and you’re _not_ just the perfect level-headed leader. All of us have depth and substance beyond our labels and the roles we play. It’s just that we’ve gotten comfortable in them and subconsciously choose to stay with what’s familiar to meet the expectations of others. But even then, we’re more so, _so much more._ Even if it’s a minute fraction, we _all_ share the same traces of quintessence. The Lions recognize that inside of us - and you’ve seen it in Keith, too - so why can’t we all see it in everyone else and ourselves?”

Shiro blinked owlishly at her. During her fast-paced explanation with animated gestures, a meadow flourished around her, on and off the ship. Red, blue, yellow, lime, black with white edges, orange, and pink flower petals rose to bask in the serenity of their creator. All he could think about was how amazing she was. How smart and capable she was. “You are,” rubbing the back of his neck, “so much smarter than I’ll ever hope to be, Pidge, you know that? I could’ve never done” - he gestured at the rebirth surrounding them - _“this._ Never could’ve even hoped to explain this place.”

“And I’ll never be the leader you are, or as well liked,” she reasoned, her eyes returning to normal. “But you’re smart, too.”

Pidge could lead, one day, if she applied herself; she had the potential - they all did. He’d seen her strategize and give orders; he trusted her judgements and information. She only needed to believe in herself more and people would follow. Besides, he liked her just fine. And being well liked wasn’t the most important thing in universe.

“Not as smart as you,” he countered, thinking this conversation had turned into the equivalent of putting a wrinkled dollar into a vending machine.

“Shiro,” she sighed.

Pidge scooped Solis off of her leg and set him on next to Alpha, shooed Apollo off her shoulder, and shifted her weight to her knees. She shuffled the whole two and a half steps between them and removed the flower crown from her hair, placing it on his head, off-kilter. Curious, he stared; it wasn’t often they were at the same eye level.

 _“So what?_ You’re still smart. Compare yourself to others and you’ll always come up short.” That crooked grin of hers spread across her face as his fingertips briefly touched the leaves and petals mixed in his hair. “My dad told me that, and he’s not in the habit of trusting and praising idiots. And neither am I. You got into the Garrison and survived this far on your merit, understand?”

Looking away, he didn’t know how to respond to that, other than with an awkward thank-you.

Pidge suddenly gasped, wide-eyed. “I knew it,” she breathed.

“Wha-?”

Shiro followed her gaze down to his hand, his fingers linked with the vines around them and covered in a mist of green. Gingerly, a slim stem peaked between his fingers, raising above his palm. A bud and three leaves sprouted as the pair gaped. Tiny lilac with white center petals cautiously revealed themselves to the world, the quintessence settling into the dirt.

Pidge was smiling when he looked back up. “I told you had it in you!”

He found her excitement over him growing a weed compared to her garden contagious. His arms wrapped around her small frame, she hesitantly doing the same, and smiled into her shoulder. For a tick, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel as if he didn’t have the weight of Voltron on his shoulders. That he wasn’t just the leader, but someone more. “Thanks, Pidge.”

“Any time.” Her head gently knocked into the side of his, her hair tickling his ear, and squeezed tighter. “Thanks for coming for me, Shiro.”

Both of them smelled of everything they’d been through, along with the occasional whiff of flowers. They were hot and dirty and exhausted. But this was the best hug either of them have had in a while; they leaned into it.

“Any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Honerva voice* Quintessence - quintessence. Quintessence is life. Quintessence, quintessence....  
> \---  
> *wipes away sweat* Whoa, okay. So what did y'all think? Hope ya enjoyed it.  
> Now, let's all come together and collectively go "AAWWWWW" for that last part. Pidge comforting Shiro? Awesome friendships and caring for eachother? That shit fucking fuels me.  
> Obviously, in the next and final chapter (Yes, the next chapter is the last if all goes as planned. This was originally only 5 chapters, but...yeah, things change.) we'll see how things play out for our Paladins and Lions.  
> Also, HAPPY (early) BIRTHDAY TO SHIRO. (I would make a Leap Year joke, but I'ma LEAF ((ha! see what I did there, I'm funny)) that boy alone.)  
> If y'all'll excuse me, it's 2:45 AM. I'm going to bed, so I can binge-watch Voltron later so I will be fully ready to be fucked up by the new season.


	6. Force of Nature, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The closer they got, the more impossibly easy and wrong it all felt. Lance’s voice echoed in her bones, in her veins: "It won’t be easy. Fat chance of this overgrown parasite giving up a meal like that." She thought of the little lake scavengers, some of which clung to her flesh until Shiro killed them. She thought of their mother that left her territory in search of food before Black killed her. She thought of the giant lizard-creature that damaged her arm instead of eating her, only after she rammed a broken root up its nostril.  
> No. This would not be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, I'M BACK! Being an adult sucks, don't do it. Go back to school while working full-time, they said. You'll better your life AND make MORE money, they said. BITCH, I'M STRESSED AF AND I AIN'T EVEN IN CLASS YET. LORD, HELP ME.  
> Y'all should know by now...I AM A FUCKING LIAR, OKAY? This is NOT the last chapter. My brain, APPARENTLY, decided: Hey. Know what'll be fun? Dragging out this "last chapter" even more. Yeah, let's do that.  
> Again: THANK YOU SO, SO, SO, SO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY MEAN TO ME!  
> So - here it is: Part 1.

Shiro and Pidge stared at his gauntlet, notifications of seven missed comms blinking angrly in the screen’s upper right corner, as dread pooled in their stomachs. Somewhere between his forced nap, Pidge sharing her thoughts and discoveries, and the magic of interspecies friendship, the simple promise of keeping in contact with the castleship every varga had slipped Shiro’s mind.

Pidge gulped. “We’re gonna learn the difference between Altean’s and Earth’s torture methods, aren’t we?”

Shiro had experience with the Galra, he did not want to add Altean to that bizarre list. Actually, he _could_ add Altean to that because of Coran’s cooking and Allura’s training methods. Not that he’d say that out loud. “Maybe when they see how much better you are, we’ll get away with only a lecture?”

_“A_ lecture?” she questioned. “More like _five,_ if we’re lucky.” She rubbed her forehead, groaning, “Keith is going to skin us alive. Spartan training is going to look like schoolyard bullying compared to what Allura and Coran do. Lance is never going to let this go, and Hunk is going to give us food poisoning.”

He doubted...some of that. “We should still let them know that we’re alive.”

“The mice are going to chew holes in our socks - I hate that. Seriously, I hate walking around with holes in my socks - with shoes? It feels weird, and sweating makes it worse.” Cringing, she ran a hand down her face. “We’re gonna need a cryopod after a cryopod,” Pidge went on. “A melee of lectures, near-death ass beatings, and healing and holey clothes.”

She was spiraling; he couldn’t blame her for it, either. “Language,” he sighed, reaching for the device between them.

Only to have it start to ding, the words: CASTLE OF LIONS glaring on the bright display screen. Shiro’s hand recoiled, eyes wide, as he gaped, frozen, along with Pidge.

“It’s for you,” she whispered ominously.

He shook his head, whispering back for some reason, “I’m not answering that.”

“It’s _your_ gauntlet,” she pointed out.

“They’re calling to check on _you,_ not me. Well, maybe me, but mostly you.”

“Didn’t you just say that we should let them know that we’re alive? That’s hypocritical, Shiro. You’re setting a poor example right now, and I’m at a very impressionable age-”

He rolled his eyes. Pidge - impressionable? That’s hilarious. “Oh, please. If anyone’s at an impressionable age, it’s me - I’m six, remember?”

“Sure, _you_ can play the Leap Year Baby Card, but _I_ can’t? That’s unfair, and I call bull-”

“Being an adult _is_ unfair.”

“Oh, how would you know? You’re six, _remember?”_

Shiro bowed his head in mock sincerity, grasping at smoke. “Then ladies first.”

Playing along, she waved her hand. “No, no, no, I insist.”

“Pidge.” He forced a smile. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“I thought you were a child?”

He gave her a look.

She ignored it. “And I appreciate that,” she replied, mirroring him. “But I respectfully decline, my good sir.”

A strange mix of relief and horror coursed through him when the connection ended. But a new level of dread filled him a few ticks later when the castleship tried again. He...really did not want to answer that. Time for a new tactic.

Shiro made a fist and placed it into the flat palm of his real hand. This wasn’t cowardice, he told himself. This was self-preservation. “Loser answers.”

Pidge arched an eyebrow at the proposal. “You can’t be serious.”

“Got a better idea?”

“Yeah. You answer.”

He gave her another look, one she didn’t ignore.

“Okay, okay, fine.” She shifted to face him, readying herself. “On three.”

Continuing in hushed voices, though they were alone, they counted together, “One...two...three.” Pidge threw paper; Shiro, scissors. He fist pumped the air as she groaned in defeat. “Best two outta three,” she offered, only to groan louder when he shook his head.

Pidge took a few deep breaths before accepting the comm. Immediately, Allura’s concerned face took up the entirety of the screen. But before Pidge could get a word in, the Princess was turning away to shout into a different comm, “Lance! Hunk! Get Keith out of his Lion! They’ve answered!” She then turned to a third comm, saying, “Do you hear me, Keith?! For the last time: Get out of the Red Lion! They’ve answered! Return to the bridge immediately.”

A second comm dinged on the Black Paladin’s gauntlet. Keith, in full armor and sitting in Red’s pilot seat, glared through the screen. He took a deep breath. “Are you okay?” he asked through grit teeth.

Pidge nodded.

His hands grasped the controls tighter for a moment. “Where’s Shiro?”

She pointed to her left.

“Is he okay?”

She nodded again.

Keith clenched his jaw, grunting, “Good” before the screen went black; she released the breath she was holding.

Shiro and Pidge stole a glance at each other, confirming the belief that they would be skinned by Keith’s bayard before day’s end. He feared Pidge’s other predictions coming true, too.

If a Paladin was attacked by another Paladin, would their Lion come to their aid? If they did, would the _other_ Paladin’s Lion come to _their_ aid, too? Could the Lions fight each other? More importantly, how long would he have to squirrel himself away in his Lion until Keith and the others calmed down?

How quickly Allura’s face transformed from concern to anger once Keith exited his Lion and the rest of the Paladins were on their way back to the bridge. “Pidge!”

She jumped with a yelp. “Yes, ma’am!”

The Princess narrowed her eyes. “Where is Shiro?”

Shiro shook his head, as if to say that he was not here and don’t drag him into this conversation he had to be a part of. “He is, uh,” she started, pawing at the space she figured he was in while never breaking eye contact with Allura. Finally, Pidge’s fingers snatched the material on his arm and jerked him into view. “He’s right here.”

She gave him a somewhat apologetic look. He, again, couldn’t blame her. At least they were in this together.

“WHERE THE QUIZNAK HAVE YOU TWO BEEN?! WE HAVE ALL BEEN WORRIED SICK!” was how it began. “Quiznak” - or some variance of it - had become her favorite word during the lecture with Coran and the boys interjecting their thoughts when they could. Ears and eyes lowered and tails tucked between legs, Shiro and Pidge sat through it, answering with “Sorry” and “I know” when it felt right and nothing more. Sometimes, it was better to keep quiet during times like these.

Allura tired herself out eventually, her rage circling back to concern, but there would be more promised once they were safe. Tension eased from their shoulders and backs as the pair began to explain what had happened since the last comm. Lance immediately popped his hand up as if he was still in school.

“Yeah, question,” he said, pointing at Pidge. “Now that you’re not two ticks from keeling over, I’m gonna ask what all of us are thinking: What the heck are you wearing?”

Everyone glanced at the fabric Pidge was draped with. She side-eyed Shiro, answering, “This is what happens when you let a six-year-old dress you.” Before he could argue, she stopped him with: “You opened this can of worms.”

Okay, he deserved that. “We didn’t have a lot of options.”

Lance waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She still looks ridiculous.”

“Hey-!” she protested, only to stop herself and pout. She couldn’t argue the truth.

“Next question.” He pointed at Shiro, asking, “Is that a daisy chain on your head?”

“Flower crown,” Shiro heard Pidge correct, wondering why he was being picked on.

“Same difference. Okay, so - let me get this straight: We’re stuck in the castle - on _your order,_ _worried sick,_ and you two are doing floral arrangements and braiding each other’s hair?!”

Shiro traded the crown for the gauntlet, wanting to add that he didn’t even know how to braid hair or make daisy chains, when Pidge suddenly stood. Bruises had bloomed across the exposed skin of her shoulders, dipping under her clothes, and snaking out to the black bandages. He expected this, the bruises to come, but he did not expected Pidge to not notice them, to not flinch or favor the worst parts in order to move. No, there was a grace to her movements that wasn’t there before, which struck him with a new urgency to leave. It was as if she was injected with a toxin that allowed her to forget that she was injured, allowed her to forget that she being consumed.

He stood as well, noting that he could feel every bruise, every strained muscle, on his body. Only, he knew how to work through the pain and stiffness of injuries; he had learned to. “Pidge, what are you doing?”

Her eyes were glowing again when she planted herself in the center of the hangar. “It’s easier to show them.”

Though he agreed, it was still dangerous. This creature had taken enough from her, in his opinion. But he couldn’t control her, couldn’t stop her; he could only trust her to limit her output as much as she could. He wondered if that was possible. “Be careful,” Shiro pleaded, turning the screen so the team could witness Pidge’s explanation.

Green mist wafted around her ankles in a circle. Steady as her heartbeat, it pulsated and absorbed into the earth and metal beneath her bare feet and above her crowned head. Ivy showered down around her while moss and grass and wildflowers sprung to life where the circle of energy once was. There was silence, awe, from the castleship; worriment from those that understood what this meant.

“There are no daisies or braids here,” said Pidge, slumping to her knees with clear eyes. There was a small smile on her lips, despite her limbs shaking from the drain of offering too much quintessence. It only grew when her new creature-friends, who were previously huddled in a corner sleeping, and Shiro gathered around her with water and the offer of comfort and aid.

Uninterrupted, Pidge explained to the team what she had told Shiro, along with his help and his side of things, in between sips of water and stroking fur, scales, and feathers. They answered any question to the best of their collected knowledge, but what Shiro found odd through it all was Coran’s uncharacteristically quiet behaviour. No random bouts of facts. No weird Altean sayings. Not even a single question. Only silence and patiently listening to Pidge, piecing together things in his head before he voiced a conclusion.

“By the ancients,” Coran breathed. “You’re on a Komar.”

“That cannot be possible,” argued Allura. “They are rare and difficult to identify. Most do not even know that they are living one because it takes so little energy from everyone and all have adapted to the strain.” She shook her head. “I have never heard of an uninhabited Komar. Pidge, you did say that you scanned the planet for life, did you not?”

“My scans showed anomalies, but no inhabitants outside of wildlife. That’s one reason why I came here with the Green Lion.” Pidge’s eyes suddenly widen, as did Shiro’s, in understanding. She lowered her head for a moment before announcing, “We’re taking shelter in an abandoned Galra battlecruiser.”

Allura broke the silence that had fallen amongst them. “Have you spotted any signs of civilization?”

“The only thing I’ve noticed was some armor in the shape of a soldier,” spoke up Shiro. “There wasn’t even much of a skeleton left, and the armor was mostly dissolved into the ground. Haven’t really had the chance to explore much outside of our current location.”

The walk from the hangar to where they rinsed their armor and themselves wasn’t far. Sure, his ankle was busted up, but he wasn’t completely crippled. While giving Pidge privacy, he had surveyed the surrounding area and that’s when he found it, half-hidden under a tree root that was also in the process of consuming the Galran ship. Only one was found, but there was no doubt more spread across the Komar, along with the natives they slaughtered.

Pidge was gaping at him, a trace of betrayal flashing across her face. Maybe he should have told her. But at the time it had seemed to be so insufficient compared to her injuries and their need for shelter and rest. He had pushed it out of his mind until that moment. What could he have done for hollow armor, anyway? How would have it helped her? Helped them?

“So,” Hunk reasoned, “now that this Komar doesn’t have people to take small amounts of quintessence from, it’s draining from whatever it can, as much as it can?”

“And nothing has more quintessence than a Lion - outside of Voltron itself, that is,” added Pidge.

“And Lions draw from their Paladins.”

Coran nodded. “Precisely.”

Shiro scratched the back on his head. “Alright, so how do we get the Green Lion back and escape?”

“It won’t be easy,” shrugged Lance. “Fat chance of this overgrown parasite giving up a meal like that.”

“It doesn’t have to be easy,” commented Allura. “It just has to work.”

From the back of the collected group, Keith said, “And...I think...I have an idea.”

**\-------**

It shouldn’t have been so hard to say goodbye to animals she just met.

Yet, there she was, tearing up as she snuggled each one and told them to be good and how she loved them and thanked them for helping her and how she was going to miss them. Repeatedly.

“Are you ready to go?” called Shiro.

Pidge shoved the last of her things into her bag and tore herself away from them. Shouldering her backpack, she waved a final farewell before jogging to Shiro’s side.

“They’ll be fine,” he told her.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed, readjusting the weight on her back. “I just want to take them with us.”

His expression softened. “I know, but their home is here. They don’t belong on a castleship.”

She wanted to argue that Kaltnecker mostly definitely did not belong on castleship, in a space war for the universe, but they made her as comfortable as possible. This was different, though - Nova, Alpha, Solis, and Apollo were wild, and Kaltnecker was a domestic cow. She understood where he was coming from, but it still hurt to leave them.

“Want me to carry that for you?” he asked.

“No,” gripping the straps, “I got it. Thanks, though.”

She had to change the subject better he launched into another one of his mothering modes: Checking her temperature, offering her food and water, wanting to basically coat her completely in the healing salve, re-check and re-re-check her bandages. Again. For the time being, she could manage whatever awaited them in her current state. Hopefully.

“Where are the Lions?”

Fully clad in armor, Shiro turned in a tight circle to pick up the Lions’ locations. “Black is stationed far north of here, probably on the other side of the Komar. No signs of Green, though.”

That wasn’t good. “Maybe they’re together?”

“Maybe,” he muttered.

“I could find her, possibly, through the roots -”

Instantly, Shiro rejected her suggestion. “No. No way.”

“But-”

_“No._ Save your strength. We don’t know for sure if this plan will work, so don’t willingly give your quintessence. Doing that is a last resort, okay? It’s taken more than you realize. You’re so pale.”

She understood, but wasn’t entirely happy about it. “I’ve always been pale,” she mumbled.

“We stick to the plan,” he decided with a sigh. “Now let’s get to higher ground. This clearing isn’t big enough for Black.”

Pidge waited a beat before following. “So your Lion’s a taxi service now?”

Shiro glanced at her, his tired expression begging her to please stop sassing him.

“You’d think it’d be the Yellow Lion,” she continue anyway, “‘cause he’s _yellow_ and taxis are generally yellow. Guess that makes Black a motorcade or something? Red’d be a firetruck and Blue a police car - well, I guess they’re more white than blue, but blue is associated with cops. And Green would be…?”

“A garbage truck,” he answered. “And your room’s the landfill.”

Pidge stopped; he shrugged, as if to throw her words back at her: _You opened this can of worms._ Gawking at his back, she slowly absorbed the fact that she just got sassed by Shiro of all people. _She_ sassed; he didn’t - _that’s how this relationship worked._ After sucking in a breath and sputtering nonsense, she finally - brilliantly - summarized it all with: _“Ouch.”_

**\-------**

The fastest way to higher ground was to climb the tree engulfing the ship. It stood taller and wider than the surrounding ones. Only problem was: It stood taller than all of the other trees - as in, _even more climbing._ But it was better than strolling through the forest, on the hope of a possibility of finding a large enough clearing for the Black Lion, and learning what else wanted to eat a Paladin or two in the process.

They climbed with a mixture of comfortable silence and mindless chatting, pausing for breaks when needed and making sure the other could keep going.

This was one of their quiet times. Pidge replayed the plan to distract herself from the ache in her limbs. They were almost high enough. Just a bit more. She could do it.

After Allura had asked him to share his idea, Keith was suddenly hesitant due to the attention. _“We keep it simple,”_ he began, unsure of how to clearly explain his thoughts. _“We just...remove the Green Lion from the Komar.”_

“That’s _your plan?”_ questioned Lance. _“Sounds a little too simple to me.”_

_“Yeah - just, just listen, okay?”_ He began to pace. _“It’s like you said, Lance - the Komar is an overgrown parasite, making the Green Lion its host. Only on a much larger scale and with a few differences. Point is: The situation is the same. Think of the Komar like a leech. How do they get a host, and how do they latch on unnoticed?”_

_“You go into their terrority and they find you,”_ Hunk slowly answered. _“They release an anesthetic into the blood stream so the host never knows they’re there, then they release an anticoagulant to keep the blood from clotting until they’re full and then let go.”_

_“How -? Why do you even know that?”_

Hunk eyed Lance. _“They’re creepy, okay? It’s for my own personal safety and peace of mind. Continue, Keith.”_

_“Alright, there are a few options to get a leech off of you: You could wait for it gorg itself and fall off. You could force it off by pinching its head. Or make its environment so unbearable it opts out to find an easier target, and the quickest way to do is with fire.”_ Keith stopped his pacing to look at his friends. _“Consider our Lions’ lasers as one, big lighter.”_

The Alteans regarded each other, shrugging and saying that it worth a try, while the Paladins grinned and complemented Keith on his idea.

“Shiro and I will get to the Black Lion,” muttered Pidge, paraphrasing the plan, “and locate and remove Green from the Komar’s surface by force. Hunk, Lance, and Keith will fire around our position from a safe distance until Green is released. Then we’re home free.”

It could work. This could actually work.

It had to.

“You okay?” Shiro asked, his hand waving in front of her face.

Pidge blinked. “Huh? Yeah. Just...thinking.”

Her good hand slipped into his and he pulled her up the last bit of the way. Vertigo threatened to send her over the edge as she found her footing; a steady hand and eyes on the horizon keep her in place. Perched on top of the world, a sea of vibrant emerald laid out as far as they could see, dotted with rock formations and bodies of water. Beautiful, though decaying beneath the surface. It was a pity they couldn’t save the Komar like Allura had with the Balmera. They were Paladins of Voltron; they were supposed to help and protect, not...do this.

Some Defenders of the Universe they were.

“Everything’s going to work out, you know,” he suddenly reminded her.

Pidge tore her gaze from the view, telling herself to stop thinking about the pleasant breeze and how it wasn’t so bad here, to focus on Shiro. “How do you know?” she found herself asking.

They could be wrong, and the plan fail.

They could be _right,_ and the Green Lion really did reject Pidge as her Paladin.

He smiled, at ease, as if he truly belonged in the sky and wind, surefooted while her fingernails dug into the bark at her back. “Because the Lion reflects the Paladin, and you’ve never let me down. Not once.”

The knot in her gut loosened.

She envied that ability of his to make everything right with a breath, with a word, with a simple touch. Her lips tugged upwards at the corners when the air shifted and warmed. Hotter and more turbulent by the tick, wildly sending Pidge’s hair around to sting her face and neck and forcing her hand to grip the excess of her shirt-dress to keep it at her side. A hand holding her in place, her shoulders scrunched up to her ears and toes digging into moss-covered bark, Pidge dared to peek through the onlash of her hair.

Shiro was grinning, squinting against the light reflecting off the Black Lion as she hovered in front of them with her jaws open, waiting patiently. She read his lips more so than heard him say, “Time to go.”

And they jumped.

**\-------**

Being inside of the safety of the Black Lion, Pidge realized just how not fine she was.

The Komar had lulled her into a haze of moderate comfort, and now, being removed from its surface, she was left drained and hollow and pain ridden. She snuck a pain pill, cringing at the taste, from the medical kit before putting it back in a lower cabinet of Black’s cockpit. Hopefully, it would be enough to hold her over until she reached the castleship; at least the pain wasn’t as bad as the prior night.

The same could be said about her Lion.

Green was worse off than her, from what she could see. A green lion-shape scrap of metal, that’s what she was. Completely stationary. No growls or roars. No barrier. Zero resistance visible from the outside. The Komar was in the process of transforming Green into that Galra ship; plant life covered her panels, thickening the closer to the ground Pidge looked.

“Everyone in position?” Confirmation trickled in over the comm as Shiro circled the Green Lion, looking for an opening. “Once I have Pidge’s Lion, open fire around us only if there’s resistance. Remember, guys: We’re here for the Green Lion, not to kill the Komar. Cease all attacks once we’re in the clear.”

The closer they got, the more impossibly easy and _wrong_ it all felt. Lance’s voice echoed in her bones, in her veins: _It won’t be easy. Fat chance of this overgrown parasite giving up a meal like that._ She thought of the little lake scavengers, some of which clung to her flesh until Shiro killed them. She thought of their mother that left her territory in search of food before Black killed her. She thought of the giant lizard-creature that damaged her arm instead of eating her, only after she rammed a broken root up its nostril.

No. This would not be easy.

All Pidge had to say was his name and Shiro pulled back; he felt it, too.

The ache in her chest, the frayed bond between Paladin and Lion - or maybe it was the shadow of it, begged her to try again. She had Shiro’s piloting skills, Keith’s speed, Lance’s marksmanship, Hunk’s durability, and castle’s lasers - all working together. And they were always stronger together.

She readied herself for whatever was to come next as Black responded and worked with Shiro. All comms were silent, save for their breathing, when they aimed for the easiest, least-plant-life-covered spot on Green: the scruff of her neck.

Suddenly, Shiro doved and swooped at his target, Black’s jaw clamping around the smaller Lion’s neck, and was jerked just as fast back in place as if Green had already began to absorb into the Komar. He released and tried again, slower this time, getting a better grip and pushing his thrusters higher and higher with the more resistance he found. Every muscle strained to hold their position, teeth baring and strangled grunts of  “C’mon, Black” escaping.

Pidge yelled for him, “Fire!” just as roots slithered up Green’s spine to reach Black.

The response was instant. A blast and the threat was eliminated.

It was Lance; she knew it was Lance. Too perfectly placed, too perfectly timed. Similar attacks followed. Some wider - Hunk, playing on the side of caution to not hit them directly. Some closer - Keith, being bold as usual. Then there were some that hit every root that moved toward them - Lance, being a showoff sharpshooter.

Firepower hailed down around them relentlessly, the Green Lion barely budging.

Then something snapped.

The tearing of tendons and muscles and veins filled Pidge’s ears, reverberating throughout her body, as the Black Lion was catapulted skywards. Shiro, sunken into his seat and screaming her name, and Pidge, plastered to the back wall and bleeding and breathless, the Lion was jerked to a halt midair, the grip on the Green Lion’s throat holding true.

Tethered to the Komar in a twisted game of Tug-of-War, Pidge vaguely heard Shiro shouting for Keith to go, for Lance and Hunk to cover him. She covered her ears, groaning and slumping to the floor. That awful sound still echoed in her skull on top of the throbbing _everything_ as a flash of metal red blasted into Black’s peripheral window. An avenging war god striking the death blow, quick and the only one needed. A jaw blade materialized in Red’s mouth as Keith barrel-rolled, dodging upsurging roots, to the thing that was trapping Green, only managing to cut half of it before his Lion was knocked away by the shoulder. Lance landed a few solid rounds before the root regenerated itself completely.

They repeated this again. And again. And again. And again.

Same results.

“This is getting us nowhere,” growled Keith. “I can’t cut it!”

“And it’s regenerating too fast for me blast through the rest!” added Lance.

“Anyone else feel like we’re just pissing this thing off?!” asked Hunk.

_“Yes,”_ he groaned.

“Quiznaking quintessence!” distantly rang through the comms by none other than Coran.

In the middle of their repetition, Pidge had limped back to lean against Shiro’s seat and flinched at every hit landed. He never stopped asking if she was okay, to hang on a bit longer. How many fingers was he holding up? When was her birthday, how old was she? What was her favorite color? Her favorite food? When was his birthday? How old was he? Not six - his _real_ age. Her dog’s name, her parents’ and brother’s and teammates’. Did she know what was going on and why they were there? What was the color of her Lion?

She answered his questions with patience. Through the screens of information yielding to video comms, Pidge’s gaze focused solely on her Lion. Light glinted off the pane of her eyes, the plates and panels of her muzzle. “Green,” she repeated.

Something...stirred in the recesses of her mind. There was pain and a whisper of a great, familiar presence. She stood, questioning and pressing her palms against the window. “Green? That’s it,” she muttered, retreating to the back of the cockpit. “That’s it! That’s what I need to do! Guys, I have an idea!”  

Fingertips were clawing into the crevasses of the exit, as if she could force the Black Lion to do anything, when Shiro caught up with her.

“Pidge, you can’t just say you have an idea and run off like -? Are-are you okay?”

“Better than okay. I’m in pain.” She re-positioned herself, grunting, “Black, open up, please!”

“That’s not-”

“I feel her, Shiro. I can feel Green.” She stopped to beam up at him, face damp and limbs too light and prickling as if floating on a cloud of needles. Rubbing her cheeks and eyes and laughing, Pidge explained, “The Komar made me comfortable to keep me there, okay? Keith was right about simply leaving. Now that I’m in the air, I’m in pain and I can feel her. Just a little. But it’s her and she’s in pain, too - which is crazy because she’s a machine! Anyway, what we’re doing isn’t working, so I need to get to my Lion and keep myself in the air while you and Keith cut the root together. Both of you have the skills and speed to do it. Lance can laid down cover fire and Hunk can help keep Green in the air with Yellow’s claws.”

That might have been the first time she had seen him waver.

This felt right, and she was not leaving without Green, rejected or otherwise. Voltron was incomplete without its left arm and shield. Pidge stood taller, shoulders back and chin up with the confidence she hadn’t had since before the crashed. “Let us do this, Shiro.”

Her voice, a clipped version, echoed from within his helmet. _“Let us do this, Paladin.”_

Black’s doors steadily opened in response, their heads jerking to look out of the Lion’s mouth. Wind howled and swirled around Green’s nape and into the open cockpit. The heat and smell of the thrusters firing filled their lungs, sweat quickly dampening their skin.

Shiro stepped closer, speaking loud enough for her to hear. “Backpack off-”

“But, Shiro-”

“And arms out,” he ordered.

The backpack slumped to the floor with a defeated thud. Bewildered and hurt, all she could say was, “What?” as he passed her his helmet.

 Tugging at the chest plate, he explained, “I’m not letting you go out there without some armor.”

“Wait, you’re-?”

“Yes.” Carefully, he slipped the armor over her head and fastened the straps at the sides. Bulking and sliding off her shoulder, but it would adjust to her frame soon enough. Both gauntlets were next, then his helmet. Not full armor, not completely exposed. Still ridiculous looking. He rested his hand on top of the helmet and leaned down to look her in eye. “Don’t be reckless and make me send Keith after you.”

She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. Probably not. Regardless, Pidge stood on her toes to quickly hug his neck, sinking with relief. “I won’t. Thank you, Shiro.”

He patted the helmet before pulling back. “Now, go get your Lion.”

Voices shouted for Shiro from both the helmet and the cockpit’s video link. Where was he? What was going on? Was Pidge okay? They needed him, needed both of them. They needed to do something different.

The Paladins nodded their best of luck wishes before parting, Pidge into Black’s jaws while shouldering her backpack and Shiro retreating into the cockpit.

“Guys. Change of plans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I feel like I should explain WHY I named this thing "Komar." As you know, there's a thing called "The Komar Experiment" by Haggar that is mentioned in - what? Season 1 or 2? - and some of the best things (discoveries and inventions) come from observing and using nature to our advantage. I believe, if she were to come across a 'planet' that absorbed quintessence, she'd want to know more about and wield that power. I mean, we don't have an explanation of, well, anything she does. So. Just a thought.  
> Part 2 coming soon!


	7. Force of Nature, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not getting me,” Pidge growled, struggling to keep hold of their quintessence. “And you’re not getting my Lion!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *rereads my chapter note for Chapter 5, saying that I'm done hurting Pidge*  
> Me: *gives this new chapter a once-over*   
> Me: . . .  
> Me: Whoops~  
> Okay! The end is here! It's been a LONG journey for us all. So much has happened over the last year (Damn, did it really take me over a year to write this?!), so I'm beyond words at the positive feedback on this. Thank you for sticking with me during this and for putting up with my awfully long updates! Again, the kudos and comments and bookmarks continue to blow my mind. I notice them all, and I am grateful to each! Really, if I'm having a bad day or stuck in my writing, I'll go back and reread the comments and it helps so much! I love y'all!  
> So - HERE IT IS, the final chapter!!! ENJOY!!!!!

Pidge braced herself within the Black Lion’s jaws, a living shred of meat wedged between teeth, to survey her options. Much like her entire plan, getting inside of the Green Lion was easier said than done. Especially when she was being held by the neck and Pidge couldn’t see much from her position. Only thing in her favor was Shiro keeping Black steady as she prairie dogged her head out of the Lion’s mouth to piece together a course of action.

“Hold your fire. I’m heading out,” she said, interrupting a stream of questions from her team. They weren’t sold on the idea, but they offered no alternatives or logical objections that didn’t end with “This is seven brands of dumb, reckless, and insane.” As if Pidge wasn’t already  _ well  _ aware of that.

The less dangerous path to her Lion was swinging over via the retractable cable housed in Shiro’s gauntlet. She aimed at a panel along Green’s muzzle, black and white with smudged dirt and blood casing her forearm instead of the usual green and white. Though it was better than nothing, the armor didn’t fit completely right and rubbed certain patches of skin raw due to lacking her under-armour. That would change soon; she’d see to that.

Also, they weren’t color-coded anymore and  _ that really freaking bugged her.  _ Black armor went with the Black Paladin and Black Lion. Green amor went with the Green Paladin and Green Lion, and so on and so forth.  _ That  _ was the correct flow of things. But no. This was wrong. All of this was wrong, and the disregard of organization gave her a headache. Now, they were beasts with opposable thumbs! They were-

A blast recoiled through the Lions, pitching Pidge further inside of Black’s jaws.

_ “Lance,” _ she chided, glaring at the roof of the Lion’s mouth. “What part of ‘Hold your fire’ didn’t you get?!”

“Howdja know it was me?”

Grunting, Pidge pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Who else would’ve make that shot?!”

He hummed, pleased with himself. “That’s true.”

“Now, are you done or should I stay on the floor? Or save you the trouble and just throw myself to my death before I can get my footing?”

“Yeah, my bad  _ for saving your hide.” _

“Would you two stop?” begged Hunk. “Oh, forget it - Pidge, hang on to something.”

Before she could ask what  _ exactly  _ he expected her hold to on to, a shudder from above ripped through Black so sudden it would’ve knocked her off her feet had she been standing. “What was that?”

“It’s just me. I’m helping Shiro hold Green until you can get to her.”

Muttering her thanks, Pidge unsteadily got to her feet and returned to her perch between Green’s neck and Black’s teeth; she aimed again. “Lance. Keith. Am I in the clear?”

“Good to go on my end,” responded Keith.

“Make it quick,” answered Lance a beat later, less than thrilled about the situation. He was more vocal about it, having to shoot so close and not wanting to accidentally hit Pidge in the crossfire. 

She understood his hesitation, his displeasure; this was dangerous. But she trusted him with her life. Goofy as he was, Lance’s aim was true. Nothing could touch her with his crosshairs trained on her. There was nothing to fear with the team’s eyes on her, with them at her side and back. Nothing at all.

She fired. 

Claws hooked the gap between Green’s panels and Pidge immediately launched herself into the air. Weightlessness, the unnecessary fear of falling in her gut and spine, was quickly replaced with the sudden jerk of the tether anchoring her to Green. Wind and leaves whipped around her, the heat and smell of Yellow and Black’s thrusters burning her lungs and skin, as she swung in an arc. The cable returned to its place in the gauntlet when her toes skimmed the inside of Green’s mouth, sending Pidge ducking and rolling to ease the impact of the fall. 

She gasped the air back into her lungs, pain coursing throughout her body. Her eyes scrunched closed for a moment. The pain would settle, she told herself, digging her fingernails into her clothes and clenching her teeth. It always did. Just wait. And breathe through it. She was okay. This was nothing. “I,” she swallowed, “I made it.”

Their collected relief was felt more so than heard. 

Firing re-ensued, the direct impacts from Lance jolting through Green and skidding Pidge closer to the edge with every hit. Rolling to her stomach, sweaty fingers and toes drug across dirty metal in a weak attempt to stop, the end fast approaching. Pidge lifted her arm and fired the cable again, hitting the entrance doors to the cockpit. She halted with a hiss, the back of her ankles inches from Green’s front teeth, merely a leap from open air and the Komar. Pulling herself to the back of Green’s mouth, she tried not to dwell on how her Lion didn’t even attempt to save her; clamping her jaws shut would’ve done enough.

But no. Not even  _ that. _

Maybe she was wrong about her feeling. Maybe she had willed it to be there.

There was a crack in the doors made by thin branches and vines, more lined the roof of the Lion’s mouth like veins, as if the machine was flesh. Uneasiness crept in. She shook out the numbness in her fingers, in her limbs and toes. The time to bow out had passed the tick she jumped from the Black Lion. She was here and Green needed her, whether she actually wanted it or not, and she was not backing down.

Her foot wedged between the opening, Pidge’s hands pried the doors apart with what strength she could muster. Which wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to get her hip into the widening space and push with her back and good shoulder and legs until her whole body could squeeze through.

“I’m in!” Another sudden blast had her stumbling deeper inside. “Whoa-! Ow!”

“Sorry,” came the weak apology from their sharpshooter. “You okay?”

Her palms and knees stung from whatever she landed on. “S’okay,” she grunted, flexing the pain from her fingers. At this point, what was another scrape or two? “I’m fine.”

The team’s communicating flooded the audio feed as Pidge switched on the helmet’s light. A path of light in the darkness exposed the writhing vegetation she landed in. She stood, chest hollow and aching. The more she shined the light, the more she came to understand that it was consuming Green from the inside. Thorn branches and wiry vines wiggled overhead and underfoot of the cockpit, tech mixed with nature.

Maybe she hadn’t willed her feelings.

Maybe the Komar….

Dropping into a defensive position, Pidge summoned her shield and readied her gauntlet. A gaping claw of teeth dangled from the cable in her tight grasp. Light trained ahead, she swore at her lack of options and weaponry. There was no hacking her way out of this one. No immediate backup available. Nowhere to run or hide. No room to breathe. Just her, in a comatose Lion, and quintessence-eating plants between her and what she wanted.

What she would give for her bayard, for her full armor, for everything to be whole again.

She crept farther into the cockpit, the hope of connecting with Green in her pilot seat driving her.  The Green Lion had been weakened, and every time they had strengthen their bond, it had been in that seat. It was their physical point of connection where Lion and Paladin became one; quintessence their cornerstone. If she could just get there and open herself up to the Lion for a moment, maybe it would be enough to awaken her, save her - save them. 

“Guys, are you ready to get into position?”

“Waiting for you mark, Pidge,” Shiro answered. “How’s it going in there?”

She turned on the video feed in response.

There was silence. And then, “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

She wished she could tell him different. “I got this; I’m fine. Get ready.” Ending the video, she eyed the greenery again and a backup plan hit her. “Hey, Keith?”

A private link opened. “Yeah?”

“If you and Shiro can’t cut Green free, I need-” She hesitated a moment before carefully, straightforwardly, explaining to him, “I need you to use your fire power on her. On the root that’s wrapped around her abdomen, specifically. The Yellow Lion’s armor can take the hit, just get us outta here.”

“Pidge, I-” That’s where it started, their wordless way of communicating. Wide-eyed, he blinked at her request, silently questioning if that’s what she wanted. Did she know what she was saying?

Pidge tilted her head, mouth set and eyes pleading. Of course she did, and he was the only one she could ask this of.

It was strange how he didn’t immediately argue, though he was looking everywhere but at her. However, she knew he’d see the necessity of her plan, knew he’d be the first to do whatever it took to reach the objective. Behind that impulsiveness of his, Keith was rational. So, it didn’t surprise her when he lifted his head and said with some resolve, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

A fraction of tension bled from her shoulders and back. “Thank you.” 

He opened his mouth as if to say more, but decided against it, opting to simply nod at her before ending the comm. Ever an awkward man of few words.

With that settled, ink swallowing her ankles and edging for more ground, Pidge approached the moss throne that was her pilot’s seat. A shaky hand reached out, unconsciously opening herself up in the process, and placed it on the back of the seat. She probed at their bond, relieved to find remnants instead of nothing, and steadily fed thoughts into it:

She was here. The team was taking them to the castleship. It was going to be okay. She wasn’t alone, fighting, anymore. Hang on just a bit longer. The pain would end soon. She was -

Not paying attention.

Thorny stems slithered around her left ankle, puncturing her skin the moment it suddenly tightened and jerked at the limb. Gasping and stumbling, Pidge equally as quick pivoted and drove the edge of her shield through the thing restraining her. It was kicked away, shriveling to a husch of what it used to be, with a growl as she glared at the patchy darkness of the cockpit. There was movement - something slinking around, avoiding the light, avoiding her. 

Keeping the tether’s hooks light in her grasp, her eyes followed it the best she could. She knew from experience, with the weight and right momentum, the hook could easily put a sizable dent into a Galra sentry; the edges weren’t to be taken lightly either. Claws clamped shut, Pidge swung the tether in a tight arc, it widening as she pushed more energy into it. When the timing was right, sparks popping off the roof and floor, the sounds of it scraping metal grating her ears, Pidge released the cable like a whip into the zone the Komar’s branches favored. 

It collided violently, the vibrations humming through Pidge’s bones and eardrums, and she wondered if she was causing more damage than repair to Green as she tugged the claws back. In a circle, the cable whipped over her head a few turns before she angled it, bringing it down as if throwing an opponent over her shoulder.

She repeated this. Again. And again.

Breath came scarcely, blood flowed too easily. She couldn’t lift her right arm anymore, the pain and fatigue too great, leaving only the left side for defense. That must have been what the Komar was waiting for.

The attack was agile as Keith, precise as Lance, strong as Hunk, and orchestrated by Shiro. Roots and vines and branches of every texture and size surged forward in mass; Pidge weakly held up her shield in response. The impact shattered the barrier and forced the Black Paladin’s helmet from her head as the mass continued its trajectory. A beam of light bounced and rolled from seat to console to the floor as Pidge was taken over, limbs and breath claimed under writhing greenery. 

She kicked, she clawed, she  _ fought  _ for every inch of freedom, every gasp of air. Blood pooled around her, agony and exhaustion within her, as thorns and bark pinned her, choked her. Gritting her teeth, Pidge managed to wedge a few fingers between the vine around her throat to alleviate some pressure; never had humid, dirty air felt so wonderful. She tried to shout for the guys to hurry, but all that came out was a strangled scream of torment, the Komar tightening its hold and creating barbs that weren’t there before.

Crushed to the floor, through hazy vision of tears and blood and lack of oxygen, Pidge stared at the ceiling, at the gash she had created. She felt horrible about hurting her Lion. She had promised to fix her, not hurt her, and what was she doing? Bleeding and dying, causing misery.

A useless failure.

A worthless Paladin.

And she was sorry, so unbearably sorry.

When it  _ truly  _ mattered, nothing she ever did turned out how she planned. She was a naive child in a war that she had no business being in. She couldn’t rescue her family, she can’t save every innocent life, she’d never send her friends safely back to their homes. Nothing was going to be right again. Death came to all in the end, it merely came quicker for those around her.

Death. Peace. No more fighting. No more struggling. No more pain.

That sounded nice. She was tired. Everything hurt. To just...stop...and let go.

**~ ~ ~**

When Pidge opened her eyes, presented with the void shimmering with familiar colors, she was calm. Nothing hurt; her body was light and airy, unlike before.

Before? What happened before? 

She didn’t...know. But that was absurd. She always knew things she probably shouldn’t; that was her nature.

_ Nature. Green. Connections. Friends and family. Technology. Quintessence. Intellect and daring. Green Paladin. Green Lion. Voltron. _

Pidge gasped, the information pounding within her skull, as she gaped up at the beast in front of her. A green lion with pupiless yellow eyes and patches of white and black fur. Motionless, curious and fearless, they observed the other. Images poured in her head as the large feline patted towards her, all of which lead to her understanding:

“You’re  _ the  _ spirit of the Green Lion, the original Guardian of the Forest.” Pidge held her palms out for the animal to sniff before greeting her. “And this is the inside of your head?” A gentle smile graced her features when the lion bumped her massive head against her hand, wanting to be petted, and how could she deny such a request? “You are...my - you’re Green.”

An answer came in the form of actions rather than words. Hot air was blown into her face when Green nestled her chin into Pidge’s sternum, the lion’s eyes closing slowly as the incredibly soft fur behind her ear was scratched. 

“Am I...still your Paladin?” Pidge ventured, gingerly pulling away to better judge the Lion’s reaction. “You rejected me when we landed on the Komar, and every time I reached out to you, you shut me out all over again. I...I understand if you want a new Paladin. I mean - look at me! A weird know-it-all that never knows when to shut up or is too quiet. I’m not  _ the  _ smartest or bravest and I’m not strong or fast or the best with people or politics. I tried to leave the team...I-I tried to leave you, Green, and I’m so sorry for that.”

Sniffling, she wiped at the tears obstructing her vision, the Lion patiently listening. “I know I’m not the best the universe has to offer, but I...I want this, I want you. I want to keep searching for my family and protecting my friends. I want to do what I can to stop the Galra.” Pidge laughed once, her voice cracking. “‘Cause some stupid guys I know put it in my head that they need me as much as I need them, and that we’re going to make a difference, though we have  _ no freaking clue _ what we’re doing half the time. So...I guess what I’m getting at is this:

“If you don’t want me as your Paladin, I understand and respect that decision; there are better options out there. But let me stay with the team - they’re absolute morons, but they’re  _ my  _ morons and I’ve made the mistake of getting attached to them. They’ll be dead in no time flat without me, and if anyone can fix this crap of a universe, I know its them. So let me stay, please. Let me help you get away from the Komar. There is no Voltron without you, Voltron needs you.”

At some point, Pidge had dropped her head, unable to meet Green’s eyes while babbling about such a sensitive topic; therefore, it startled her when she was suddenly pinned by the Lion to what Pidge assumed to be the ground here. She stilled, closing her eyes and holding her breath, as Green’s mouth drew closer and -

A tongue, wet and rough, licked her from left cheek to well into her hair. Pidge’s eyes popped open, an intelligent “Huh?” escaping her lips, as weight plopped on her legs and abdomen. Memories, flashes of moments and feelings, settled within Pidge’s mind as fur smothered her face, a different memory with each loving nuzzle.

The Lions’ first look at the Paladins had been through the Blue Lion. The anticipation, the excitement, the knowledge of Voltron being once more and reuniting. Green’s slumber had been so long, so lonely. But there was a purpose, a Paladin coming for her, and she waited.

This human was tiny with molten gold for eyes and constellations across her skin.

This human was clever and bold and curious and willing. 

This human was kind and awkward and feisty and flawed perfectly.

This human was her Paladin.

Words failed to articulate what it meant to form Voltron, to become the left arm, the Shield and Sheath, again. To have a Paladin and a purpose. To be free and useful.

The training exercises flooded in: Flying blindfolded and crashing, dodging the castle’s defense system, the multiple formations of that ridiculous cheerleader pyramid.

The long days and late nights of Pidge sitting in the bay tinkering, muttering to herself or bouncing ideas off of the Green Lion. Projects, functional and not, finished and discarded, grew along with the Paladin’s lack of sleep and breaks.

Clips of Pidge smiling and laughing and crying and fighting with the team. Flashes of battles and flying and forming Voltron. The close calls and the victories and the setbacks.

Olkarion, the green planet of forest and technology beyond compare. They had strengthen their bond there. Never had they been so connected, so in sync. Never had anything been so  _ right. _

Moving on her own accord to save Pidge from the RoBeast on Arus.

Protect Pidge. Protect her precious little Paladin. Voltron needed her. Protect, protect, protect, protect, protect-

Gasping, Pidge grabbed shakey fists full of Green’s fur, ceasing the memories. The fluffy mass lifted from her body, hot air blowing into her face as a wet nose pressed to her temple. She blinked, shifting to her knees, and hugged the Lion’s neck. “You are my Lion, and I am your Paladin. Always and forever,” she sobbed, burying her face. “I’m so sorry I ever doubted you, Green. I was wrong. I’m so - I’m sorry, so sorry. I’m sorry.”

Green’s purring and stroking impossibly soft fur eventually soothed her suffering and tears.

Pidge pulled back when she was ready, but keep her hands moving along her Lion’s head. She felt better knowing that they were okay, that thing hadn’t completely gone to crap. But something was bothering her. Her name, she thought she keep hearing it being faintly called.

_ “Pidge.” _

She turned, hearing that clearly. “Green, what’s-?”

_ “Pidge!” _ The muffled voices were desperate, urgent and raw with emotions.  _ “PIDGE!” _

Static attacked her ears along with the knowledge of the guys calling for her. “Green, I think it’s time for me to go back.” Pidge’s attention alternated between her Lion and finding a possible exit. How  _ did  _ she get here anyway? “I have to - I have to get back to them. They’re worried. I-”

The Green Lion nibbled on the fingers of Pidge’s left hand to get her attention. Once she had it, Green rubbed her shoulder before headbutting the Paladin, urging her to do the same. 

There was so much Pidge wanted to say: She wished this could last longer, she was glad to have met Green in this form, she was overjoyed being her Paladin. The right words never came; there wasn’t enough time. She had to go back, the guys needed her. She had to save herself and Green.

Conflicted, she did the only thing she could think of: Pidge kissed her muzzle before cupping the Lion’s head and pressing their foreheads together. “I love you, Green.” 

**~ ~ ~**

Purring resonated in Pidge’s head when she came to. The sensation of being tightly bound and roughly dragged followed, the stinging pain of digging thorns and ringing ears not far behind. The taste of copper and bile and the smell of metal, dirt, sweat, and blistering heat assaulted her senses as the inside of Green’s mouth swam lazily overhead. 

“No, no, no,” she weakly groaned.

Pidge rolled her head to the side, her arm with the tether housed in the gauntlet bound parallel to her sternum, and fired blindly behind her. The equipment moaned when she jerked to a stop; the Komar showed its displeasure by clamping down harder on Pidge. Quintessence rapidly began draining from the Paladin and Lion, weakening them, angering them. This was hers - this was  _ theirs  _ \- and nothing else could have it. Nothing else was allowed to touch it. Not after everything they’d been through. Not now, not ever.

“You’re not getting me,” Pidge growled, struggling to keep hold of their quintessence. “And you’re not getting my Lion!”

Consciousness slipping, her sight crackled between hers and Green’s.  _ See through the Lion’s eyes, _ Allura had once said - or was it Coran? - and now she was doing it for longer than a moment, like on Olkarion. The Red and Black Lions had failed to cut Green free and were circling back to go again. Lance had to lay down more coverfire from Blue to compensate for not having backup; his hits perfect as ever. Pidge could  _ feel  _ the armored claws of Yellow holding her in place. 

Pidge squeezed her eyes shut and told herself to breathe, to not completely lose herself within her Lion.

They melted and forged together, swapping veins for wires, metal for flesh. Dual vision and equal pain. Their quintessence flowed within them, strengthening and connecting them.

More. They wanted more quintessence, just like the Komar. They could reabsorbed what they had lost, the shared thought came. It’s only impossible if you don’t try.

Syphoning quintessence, to Pidge at least, was similar to drawing in a deep breath and holding it, hiding it away as she took in more and more until her chest swelled to near bursting. She could feel the vegetation surrounding her dying, cell by cell, shriveling and rotting. She could sense when the Komar latched deeper on their quintessence, regenerating, strangling it from them. They, in turn, fought back.

Too many directions Pidge was being jerked in - she was in her body, she was in her Lion, she  _ was  _ her Lion, she was pure energy, she was nothing. It was agony, it was bliss. She struggled for normalcy, a body that was hers, and crumpled in on herself when she found it.

Sandstorms howled in her lungs, hurricanes pumped through her veins, infernos destroyed her flesh and bones as the ashes scattered to the winds. Too much power surged through what was left, too much-

Her body dissolving to the universe halted, every piece of her slamming back into place with finality like a steel trap shutting.

Renewal, serenity, safety pulsated through their being as Paladin and Lion became one for a final push. A roar ripped through the pair as the Komar’s vegetation was destroyed and absorbed. Shimmering green light fluttered around them as the Green Lion soared, finally free, and Pidge’s vision went black.

**~ ~ ~**

Pidge not responding to all comms was beyond worrying. But Keith firing at the Green Lion, without so much as a word after their third failed attempt with the jaw-blades, was worse somehow.

Thankfully, Keith’s name ringing through the comms seemed to be the spell needed to awaken the Green Lion from her slumber. Green light - quintessence, Shiro noted - clouded the areas vines and roots had been restricting Green’s body, it quickly vanishing. The mighty robot’s roar echoed across the galaxy in triumph as she knocked herself free from the Yellow Lion’s armored claws and jetted away, Hunk narrowly dodging Keith’s fire.

Shiro pulled up a video link, the others doing the same as a green blur zipped around overhead. “Pidge. Pidge, can you hear me?”

A blank screen greeted him, and the audio was silent on her end.

“Pidge, answer us,” snapped Keith. Faster than the Red Lion, faster than they thought the Lion capable of, Green rocketed into the atmosphere with Keith quickly chasing after. “Pi - Wha-? What is she doing?!”

“What is  _ she  _ doing?” questioned Lance, following along with the group. “What were  _ you  _ doing?! Firing at Hunk and Pidge!”

“Yeah - well...I’m sure he had his reasons. But a heads up would’ve been nice.”

“That’s not the point, Hunk! What were you think-?!”

“Guys, stop it,” Shiro tried to cut in.

“She asked me to, okay!” shouted Keith. “She asked me to do it if Shiro and I couldn’t cut her loose.” His gaze skipped from each of their faces on his screens, frustrating melting to show flashes of fear of rejection, of hate. “I’m sorry, I-I should’ve said something. But she didn’t….”

Suddenly, Shiro understood. If she had brought up the idea of purposely hurting her to free her, it would’ve been rejected, so she had to ask the one person that would do it, if asked. Fire incinerated plants. Only the Red Lion could free them if the jaw-blades failed, if Pidge failed to free Green herself. She went with the literal approach of Keith’s original plan as her backup.

His team was aging him faster than the Galra ever did.

“It’s fine,” he sighed. “All that matters is that Pidge is okay. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Pidge! Hahaha! Guys, hey, it’s -” Hunk cut himself short. “That’s, um...that’s not exactly Pidge.”

Silently, there sat Pidge’s too stiff body on the other side of the video, paying them no attention. Hunk was right. It was Pidge, but it wasn’t. Her eyes were wrong - glowing yellow and pupiless. That wasn’t quintessence channeling through her, that was -

“Green,” Shiro breathed. That had to be it. A Lion possessing a Paladin, was such a thing possible? “That’s the Green Lion.”

“They can do that? Since when can they do that?! That can’t be good, right? Someone please tell me I’m wrong here!”

Pidge’s head turned to face the video, answering in a voice that wasn’t used to speaking, wasn’t used to its body. “Do...not...worry...my friends.” And the video went dark.

“Don’t worry? Don’t worry?! Oh, okay, yeah, that -  _ that  _ right there makes me worry even more!”

“Hunk. You’re spiraling,” said Keith.

“Dang right, I’m spiraling! And I’m going to keep doing this ‘til we get to the castle and get Pidge back! Let me cope, man!”

Though understanding, much to their collected irritation, Hunk was a man of his word.

Before the Black Lion fully settled in her bay, Shiro was already waiting, nerves impatiently pumping through his muscles, for her to let him out. He squeezed through the growing gap as soon as he could, running down the incomplete ramp. His focus was too much on getting to Pidge and not on where his feet were going, resulting in him miscalculating how high Black’s jaw was from the ground.

Shiro landed wrong, his ankle - his not-completely-healed ankle - popping, and familiar pain ricocheted up his leg. He gritted his teeth, bit back a scream, and shifted his weight to his good leg and limped until Keith and Lance raced up to him. They ducked under his arms - Lance on his left, saying “I’m sorry” and Keith on his right, replying with “Me too” - as they hobbled along. When they finally reached the Green Lion’s bay, Hunk was already there, his hands on the barrier Green had erected. 

“What’s going on?” Shiro demanded.

“I don’t know. Pidge isn’t answering and Green’s not opening up.”

Shiro removed his arm from Lance’s shoulder to place his hand on the barrier. Humming was reverberating through the shield, it sounded almost like...purring? “Green, please,” he begged, straining his neck back to look up at the mechanical beast. He caught the others mimicking him out of the corner of his eyes. “Give us back Pidge. She needs a cryopod. Let us help her. We love her, too.”

It took patience and coaxing, like dealing with a pet that didn’t want to give something it shouldn’t have back, but the barrier eventually fell under their fingertips as the Lion lowered her head. Hunk, getting the nod of approval of the group, disappeared within Green’s jaws as Lance, Shiro, and Keith waited in anticipation.

Hunk carried Pidge, limp and filthy and bloody, down the ramp and wordlessly presented her to the team, his face crestfallen as if he was at fault. Their hands fall to her vital points: Lance’s fingers wrapped around her ankle, Keith had the crook of her elbow, and Shiro pressed his fingers to her throat. Breaths held, no one dared to move until they find a sign of life.

Faintly, so impossibly weak, they felt a pulse. They called to her, talked her back to life as Hunk cradled her to the med bay, the others in his shadow. Pidge’s heartbeat grew stronger and steadier, persistent like her element, as the purring from her Lion grew louder still. Shiro had heard that a cat’s purring had positive effects on healing; he briefly wondered if the same was for Voltron Lions.

More gentle than his size suggested to be possible, Hunk eased Pidge onto the medical bed. Allura and Coran quickly shoved wet clothes into each team members hand and ordered them to scrub as much muck off of Pidge as they could. Cleaner skin helped with the healing, they claimed, but completely showering Pidge in her current state wasn’t ideal, so something along the line of a sponge bath and debris removal would have to do.

The overhead light was too blinding, the smell an odd mix of sterile and grime. Bandages were unwound and clothes were stripped, exposing too much skin and gore. Pidge gasped and hacked up spit, her eyes cracking open for a tick, slurring something, before succumbing to exhaustion. Through it all, all Shiro could think of was how was she still alive, and he marveled at the small, battered and bruised, warrior on the table.

From the Lion’s bay to pod, the whole ordeal took a mere seven dobashes. Somehow, looking at Pidge in a healing stasis, those seven dobashes felt endless yet instant. Shiro couldn’t help but worry if he made the right call as the purring persisted in the back of his mind.

**~ ~ ~**

Waking from stasis was something Pidge would never get used to, nor hoped to.

Fresh air bombarded her lungs, light pierced her eyes, and her gut was hollowed, the little food and water once inside converted to energy for her body to help heal itself. She was a marionette doll cut from its strings, her limbs equally uncoordinated and uncooperative.

Steady hands prevented her from tipping sideways. “Whoa, easy, easy. I got you, Pidge.”

She blinked through the haze. Processed the voice, her surroundings. Concluded what had happened. “Shiro?”

“Yes, hi.”

She gave him a once-over. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. How are you feeling? Can you stand?”

She didn’t know. She was feeling everything that was hers and that wasn’t. Her knees were buckling from hunger, head swimming from thirst, throat aching from biting back emotions. Not one of them had slept, either - the fools. It was overwhelming being so connected. Last time was easier, it wasn’t so jarring, wasn’t so intense. Pidge shook herself; she hadn’t answered him yet. “I-I need - Can I see Green?”

Upon hearing her stomach growling, Hunk popped out from behind Shiro, ordering, “Food first.”

“Then-?”

“A shower and some fresh clothes,” said Lance, shouldering off his jacket and handing it to her.

Pidge eyed him, then it before slipping her arms through the sleeves. “Are you crying right now?

“No. No, I’m not.” He rubbed at his eyes, lying, “You smell so bad it’s making my eyes water, that’s all.”

Smirking, she pulled the hood over her head, enjoying the warmth and hiding inside of clothes too large for her. “Okay, so... _ then _ Green?” she questioned, glancing between Shiro and Keith, almost daring them to also tell her no.

To her relief, Keith’s mouth tilted up at the corners, agreeing, “Then Green.”

With that, Shiro scooped her up just in time for Allura and Coran to launch into their fussing over her wellbeing. The “Pidge”s and the “Number Five”s and the questions and half-hearted scoldings died out to white noise as the group walked to the dining hall. 

Pidge tucked her head into the crook of Shiro’s neck, dropping her voice so only he could hear. “You’re okay, right? Your ankle?”

“It’s fine,” he answered. “Wouldn’t be carrying you if it wasn’t.”

“About about your ribs? And your nose?”

“They’re fine, too.”

“What about -?”

“Pidge. I’m  _ fine,” _ he laughed. “They forced me into a pod right after you went in. I’m okay.”

She grew quiet. Relief, hers and the team’s, pulsating through her core and unwillingly bringing tears to her eyes. She allowed the emotion to flow through her, tried not to dwell on it, and simply caved: She was safe. Shiro was safe. Green was safe. Everything was whole again. These were happy tears, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Hey, everything’s fine now,” he soothed, causing her to hug his neck tighter. “You were amazing, Pidge, and I’m proud of you.”

She wondered if pep talks were supposed to make you cry more.

**~ ~ ~**

As long as it wasn’t repackaged food goo, Pidge couldn’t care less what she ate as long as it did its job of filling her belly. She had things to do, apparently, and the guys weren’t letting her worm her way out of it so she could reach her Lion faster.

Food was offered and eaten a touch too fast. Pidge nearly re-emptied her stomach in the halls heading toward the showers. Lance, who insisted on getting his turn of princess-carrying her, appreciated her ability to hold her food.

Not even at the Garrison had Pidge showered so quickly, after having to remind the guys coddling her that she could, and had to, shower  _ alone. _ Clad in fresh pajamas and wet hair, she patted through the steam to the exit where her entourage waited, accepting her fate of being princess-carried again. If figured correctly, it was -

Keith picked her up without ceremony or warning, immediately striding toward her Lion’s bay.

_ “Hey,”  _ Pidge yelped. “You do know that I can walk on my own, right?”

Hunk grabbed the towel from her shoulders, taking it upon himself to dry her hair as they marched dutifully onward. “Shh. It’s more fun this way.”

“Princess Pidge,” Lance snickered behind his hand.

After shooing away her self-appointed towel boy, the so-called princess showed them a not-so-princess-like hand gesture. Shiro scolded her out of habit.

“Oh, c’mon,” he whined, “you’re enjoying this.”

She turned up her nose, hoping to hide the pink darkening her cheeks. “No. I’m not.”

“Okay, fine.” Lance shrugged. “Guess I’ll just have to...serenade you ‘til you do.”

She froze, then whispered, “No.”

_ “Yes.” _

“Oh, oh, man,” Hunk egged on. “Do that one song from  _ Lady and the Tramp.” _

“Excellent choice, as always. Just need some spaghetti and meatballs to really set the mood.”

The mere thought of more food made her nauseous. Without breaking eye contact, Pidge leaned a fraction closer to Keith. “I’m gonna need you to walk faster, please.”

If Pidge truly were a princess, then Keith must have been one of her knights because he followed her request without hesitation. That or he was a noble steed. She stuck her tongue out at Lance as another diplomatic gesture.

“Hey! My voice carries, Pidge! It.  _ Carries!” _

“Yes, yes, it does,” cringed Shiro. “Now, enough, or I’ll  _ carry  _ you.”

Lance paused, torn between the possibilities Shiro gifted him. “Like...princess-carry or potato-sack-carry? Can I pick?”

Even at a distance, Pidge could see his eyebrow twitch. “Forget it,” he sigh.

Grinning, that was all Lance and Hunk needed to switch their victim from Pidge to Shiro and began serenading him oh-so lovingly. 

“How are we friends with them?” Keith mumbled.

Pidge shifted so she was in more of a princess-carry position and less potato-sack. “Bold of you to assume I claim any of you as friends,” she teased.

He glanced over his shoulder. Lance and Hunk were skipping circles around their leader, singing loudly. Shiro had accepted his fate, biting the inside of his cheek and keeping his eyes focused on a spot on the floor. Keith shook his head. “I can understand that.”

It was nice how Keith understood this part of her. That he understood and accepted that sometimes being around the others was draining. That sometimes being around even  _ Shiro  _ didn’t help. Sometimes she didn’t  _ want  _ things to be fixed right away or to be calmed down. Sometimes she wanted to be mad, to let it fester a bit and gut it out herself when she was ready. Sometimes she just wanted quiet without being alone that didn’t come with a list of questions first.

And that’s where Keith came in. Because he was the same, and he was there if she needed that outlet and visa versa. Not that they did this often. But it was nice to know they could find solace and solidarity if the needed it. 

“Hey, Keith?”

He keep his eyes trained ahead. “Hmm?”

If she wanted to do this, now was the time; the bay was fast approaching and they were separate from the others. “I’m sorry for before - I shouldn’t have asked that of you. I know it was hard for you.”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not like it hit anybody.”

Residue of shared emotions fluttered within her still. Keith was more torn up about this than he was letting on. Pidge sighed, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. Why couldn’t he just accept her apology? Why did he have to be difficult? “I still shouldn’t have asked you to do it. I should’ve talked to the others about it - at least to Hunk.” She accidentally on purpose knocked her head into his. “They don’t hate you for doing it, you know. This was my mistake, not yours.”

“It was my decision to go along with it, so I’m at fault, too,” he argued. “So there’s nothing to be sorry about. Besides,” he half-smiled, gently returning the favor of knocking his head into hers, “what are teammates for?”

**~ ~ ~**

Starfished on Green’s muzzle, Pidge had not moved in vargas. They simply breathed in each other’s essence, reacquainted themselves with the other, probbed feelings and filled gaps. The purring had lessened the longer they were together. It was quiet and peaceful. Oh, this-

_ “-is the night, it’s a beautiful night,” _ sang Hunk and Lance.  _ “And we call it bella notte-” _

Pidge rolled to her side, drawing her knee to her chest, snatched off her Green Lion slipper and threw it. 

It pegged Lance right in the temple. “Ow!”

She had the other slipper ready in hand, daring anyone else to continue the song. “Stop that.”

“So, are you coming down from there sometime day or what?” Hunk asked, as if he wasn’t just as guilty and in trouble as Lance. “You’ve been up there for a while.”

Setting the remaining slipper aside, Pidge returned to laying on her stomach, much like how her Lion was resting, and propped her chin on her folded forearms. “I’ll be down soon. Just...bonding and thinking.”

“Introverting?” ventured Allura. She turned to Lance. “Did I use that correctly?”

“Something like that,” she smiled as Lance gave the Princess a thumbs up.

Coran stepped forward. “It’s good to have you back, Number Five. When you’re ready, we’d hope you’d join us for a game in the lounge. If that’s okay.”

That sounded nice, actually. She had missed them. “Will there be snacks?”

“Of course!” Hunk piped up. “What kind of Game Night would it be if there were no snacks?”

“Alright,” Pidge agreed. “I’ll gladly kick all of your butts in a game.”

“You’re pretty cocky for someone that just got out of a cryopod,” commented Lance.

“Says the guy that can’t dodge a slipper to the head,” countered Keith.

Hunk fistbumped him. “Ooh, good one, Keith.”

Lance turned to his big friend, squawking about loyalties and friendships, as Shiro tried to herd them away. “Alright, guys, let’s leave Pidge alone for a bit.”

Pidge sat up, calling down, “Wait a minute!” She crawled to the frayed backpack she couldn’t bring herself to throw away and rummaged around inside. Six palm-sized containment units fell into her lap. She peeked into each before saying, “Catch!” and tossing them below.

Confused, they looked up at her, as if questioning:  _ What is this? _

“Think of them as souvenirs,” she offered, flopping back to her stomach and lazily kicking her feet in the air.

One after the next, the lids popped open. Flowers with petals the color of its respective holder rested within. Like each person, each color and petal was unique: some had large petals, some had sharper edges, some had richer hues. 

“They’re gorgeous, Pidge,” breathed Allura, the mice also marveling while perched on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I made them,” Pidge added, “with my quintessence...and the Komar’s help, I guess.” All looked up at her as if she had lost more than quintessence to the Komar. “What? I was curious!”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” Lance goodnaturedly chided.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Shiro finished.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved dismissively. “Wait, why did you get two flowers? That’s not fair.”

Everyone looked into Shiro’s hand to find that Lance was correct. A large, black and white petaled flower nearly overshadowed a tiny, weed-like purple flower. Hardly something to be jealous of. He smiled to himself, peeking up at Pidge. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Maybe she likes him better than you?” Keith needled Lance, recapping his gift and pocketing it.

Hunk jumped in with more teasing. To which started an argument of playful banter between them, it drawing in everyone surrounding the primary colored trio. They were loud. They were smiling and laughing.

Smiling fondly down at them, Pidge had thought she wanted quiet, but this?

This felt right.

This felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put y'all through so much angst, I had to throw in so fluff at the end!   
> HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT! Thanks for everything, and if you liked this, keep an eye out for other fics from me!   
> \-----  
> **during that one scene with Pidge pinned by plants**  
> *Josh Keaton voice* I've seen enough hentai to know where this is going...  
> ((I'm sorry, that's all I could think about after proofreading this.))

**Author's Note:**

> DUN. DUN. DUUUUUNN.
> 
> Hey, y'all, thanks for reading! Hope ya liked it. Sorry for any errors; I tried, I really did. Good and bad news: Shiro enters the fray in the next chapter. Now I get to hurt TWO Paladins, yay.  
> Also:  
> Name of this planet? No clue, my dudes, do I have to think of everything?  
> Name of that fugly creature? Coran probably knows. His mustache - it's full of secrets.


End file.
